


Affairs of the Heart

by GwendolynGrace



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, BDSM, F/M, Gore, Lengthy Internal Monologue, Love Triangles, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Multi, Multiple Pairings, POV Multiple, Power Dynamics, Reverse Power Dynamics, Sexposition, Slow Burn, Space Mom Allura (Voltron), Tragic Romance, Trans Female Character, Unrequited Love, Violence, death imagery, disturbing dream imagery, messy family dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-06-19 14:35:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15511977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwendolynGrace/pseuds/GwendolynGrace
Summary: Lotor and Acxa have an understanding.Lotor has a plan.Lotor's plan involves the Altean Princess.But Lotor's plan does not account forAllura.





	1. Pursuits of the Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> If you ship Lotura, you've probably read (or written) so many examinations of their relationship, but here's another. I started this story to work through my feels about Season 6 in the last few days remaining before Season 7 dropped. I'm not sure we'll see Lotor again, but if we don't, we'll always have his tragic arc. Later chapters in the story reflect some speculation about one possible direction for Season 8, likely to be Joss'd.
> 
> I also picked up a distinct vibe between Lotor and Acxa, so this incorporates how they worked together and coordinated their twists and turns in Lotor's quest for Quintessence. 
> 
> Be aware that Ch 1 is highly explicit, but then there is a slow burn before we get to any more sexy times. They'll happen, though! Chapter 5 carries a warning for some grim dream sequences.

Acxa stretched her long torso, arms above her head. She sighed contentedly. Beside her in his bed, Lotor traced lazy circles over the fine fur that covered her bare skin. He had his claws out, but was careful to drag them lightly so that his motions raised prickle-flesh. His claw raked her nipple, and she could suppress neither the shudder nor the groan of pleasure it caused.

It was a rare luxury to have nothing to do. But while the sentries were constructing Lotor's Sincline ships, all they could do was wait. His mood had been foul since the encounter at Ulippa. Even Ezor was walking on bilgshells around him. He'd been snappish and broody, treating Acxa with particular disdain. Thus, his suggestion that they steal away for the evening--well, technically, his order that she follow and attend him privately--was a welcome sign that he was pleased with their progress. Otherwise he would keep them on the bridge, staring at the production line as if he could will it to finish, growling at them whenever anyone made a sound. 

But now, after one round already, a little refreshment, and a short rest, Lotor seemed back to normal. His breathing was even and relaxed. His tantalizing, feather-light touch signaled his own energy returning. So it was time to find out what he really thought about their situation. She smiled and turned onto her side. Draping an arm over his chest, she said, "I'm glad the ships are almost complete. And that you're feeling more forgiving."

"Losing the Teludav was...inconvenient," he said warningly, "but we have persisted." She flinched, cheeks growing hot. Lotor's rage over her failure had resulted in a dozen slights, including rejecting her utterly for the past couple of movements. It wasn't like him to stay so angry. Tonight marked the first time he had spoken softly to her, much less touched her, since the incident. It could have been much more severe, she knew. In fact, it was nothing compared to what she would have suffered from other commanders. But somehow it stung worse than a physical punishment. At least for the moment, though, he seemed to have set his disappointment behind him. His hand found the back of hers and he rubbed it with one knuckle. "The next phase will be tricky, Acxa."

"You're always three steps ahead, my prince," she commented. "So what's the next phase?"

"Hm…" He tangled his other hand in her hair, tugged in the way she liked, and rolled her onto her back again, climbing atop her as she yielded. "First," he said, cupping her breasts with his fingers, "We must steer clear of Haggar and her spies. That is essential." He leaned over to gently bite at the nipples he had raised to hard buds. "Next...it depends on the Paladins."

"The--ah--Paladins?" she gasped. Her hands and legs flexed involuntarily to wrap around his long, sinewy body.

"Yes," he hissed, and she knew it was both confirmation and pleasure. "If their coalition grows strong enough, they may defeat the witch, but it's unlikely." His fingers, claws retracted, reached between her legs and probed the fleshy membrane there until it opened. He continued: "It's odd. Based on our observations, half the lions have new pilots. But they are improving most quickly. That move Voltron executed was...flawless. I would not have guessed they could best you so soon--and yet." 

He paused his strategizing, dropping his head to meet his hand. He pressed his mouth to the edges of her opening with warm puffs of breath and sweet kisses. His tongue flicked around the rim of the membrane and into it, finding the glands which were an inheritance of her halfbreed biology. Wet with his saliva, the glands reacted, swelling and opening in a series of rippling gill-like folds that sparked slightly to any friction. Lotor took advantage of the electrical charge, scissoring between the folds of the glands, making her crotch tingle and buzz, which in turn made her whole body shudder.

He amused himself this way for a while, alternating his spit as lubricant, and his fingers for maximum sensory overload, until her secondary canal opened from the stimulation. She in turn had reached for his member, Altean in function and shape except for its Galran length and the pronounced barb at its tip, like a cat's. She stroked until shaft and barb were both as large and hard as possible. With a groan, Lotor let her guide him through the folds and into the secondary layer of her membrane. Here, they could maintain the friction that activated her gills, while the barbed tip would not tear at the soft walls of the glands. 

"Now," he continued as he began to cant his hips in a circular motion, so that his cock moved without pulling the barb backward, "one of two things will occur soon: My father will waken, or he will die. My--guess--is he will--awake." He began to pump harder. Acxa tightened her grip on his back and arched into him.

"Are you listening?" he teased.

"Yes, yes, I hear--every--word--Don't STOP," she ordered in desperation. "Fuck me, just--fuck me!" She bucked her hips; the barb drew a sharp line inside her and she let out a cry of pleasure/pain.

Lotor answered with his own exclamation. He worked in a grinding motion but could not resist the occasional thrust. Each time the barb drew backward, he panted in desire. 

"Acxa…." he warned.

"It's all right," she said. "Do it!"

With a snarl, she pushed up into him and rolled, forcing them to reverse position. Straddling him, she rode up and down, moaning each time she raised herself and felt the scratch of his head along her canal. Lotor's eyes narrowed to yellow slits, his claws opened, and he answered her thrust for pulse. Sheened with sweat, he grabbed her slender hips to help guide her up and down. His head tipped backward, hair fanning behind him; she pushed down against his chest and leaned forward to change the angle. The additional pressure on the barb took Lotor to his edge. He thrust twice as fast, ejaculating great hot streams into her, which dribbled into her gills for a final frisson of electricity between their pelvises. In the moment of release, his barb retracted and he could thrust without the drag of it. Acxa wriggled and tucked her hips back and forth to enjoy the smooth weight of his shaft without the impediment of the barb. She rutted until she felt her glands expel the mist that signalled completion. As she approached her climax, she nipped at the smooth skin around his nipples, closing over the nubs with her teeth. 

"My turn," she said when she let go, and without dismounting, she reached between the place where their bodies connected. Her long fingers sought the spot every Galran male had: below the joint of his cock, an open, heart-shaped set of labia with a single flap of skin at its V. She rubbed his V-spot, as it was known, until it became slick with secretion. This she used as additional lubricant for her gills, creating a unique feedback loop that, she knew, could drive the prince wild with passion.

"So," she said mischievously, manipulating him the whole while, and continuing to pleasure herself on his now blunted cock, "if he wakes?"

"Ahhhhhh," was Lotor's only response for a bit. She eased off so that he could form words. "He'll want his throne back, of course. I...may have to...grovel to atone for the gains Voltron's made. But--I expect I shall be--deposed, which is--fine--Ohhhhhhhh!" He twitched underneath her, shuddering uncontrollably as a second orgasm shook him--this time from the V-spot. He laid back on the pillow, white hair tangled underneath his head, and his forelock sweaty and limp over his eye, irises small as pinheads. He looked utterly fucked. Satisfied, Acxa lengthened her body again, covering as much of him as possible, until they calmed enough to separate without further harm.

"You...outdo yourself," he observed. 

She smiled slyly. "You don't deserve me, it's true. What happens after you're dismissed by Zarkon?" 

If he was disappointed in her cold return to business, Lotor did not show it. He reached up to invite her into his arms again, and stroked the short ruff of hair between her horns he spoke. "It changes nothing. Construction of the Sincline is the top priority. This is where I shall need you most, dear Acxa. If we face more setbacks, then at some point, I don't know when, the others will wish to betray me. I expect Zethrid may suggest it first, but no matter. Ezor and Narti will also be tempted. They won't understand our goals. You must choose the right time, but when it comes, you must turn against me as well."

"What? Why?"

"Because...it's the only way to protect you. And the only way the Paladins will believe I wish to join them."

Acxa said nothing at first. She propped herself on one elbow. "You mean to use Voltron to kill Zarkon if he sets you aside?"

"I mean to ally with them for a number of reasons. If my plan is to succeed, we must unlock unlimited quintessence. If we can't do it with the Sincline ships, we won't be able to turn the Empire to my rule. But the ships are untested. And our own supply of quintessence is not unlimited, especially after the disaster in Ulippa. This job requires absolute secrecy; if either my father or his witch find out, they will wish to take the quintessence for themselves. But even if we can mine the quintessence field, we may not be able to defeat my father alone."

"Voltron."

"Voltron," he agreed. "If all goes well, I'll make a truce. But if not, they'll be the only safe harbor. And... I shall need to convince Princess Allura of my sincerity, most of all. An alliance, offered as emperor, is preferred, of course. If I am on the run, however, it's a different story. I can't appeal to their sense of decency unless I appear to have nowhere else to turn."

"So you let us betray you, you...escape? I'm to let you escape? Then, you join forces with Voltron and...what? And where are _we_ during all this?"

"That is an open question," he admitted. "I leave it to you to choose the best option for your own protection."

She frowned, considering the implications of his statement. Notably, he answered only half of her question. Probably because he didn't know the answers to the rest. Their intimacy had always afforded her insight to his machinations, but his current course was so layered, she was not sure even he had all his contingencies covered. And what did he mean by this uncharacteristic warning about the other generals? Zethrid could be bloodthirsty and impatient, Ezor ditzy and impulsive, and Narti inscrutable, certainly, but none had ever wavered in devotion. Was he expecting them to leave for good, or just to put on a show for the Altean brat?

"When you say...convince her..?" she asked cautiously.

His eyes slit open and he regarded her sideways, through the wet hair that slashed across his face. "I'm not ruling anything out," he told her. 

She sighed. "I see. So, you mean to remove me for a more advantageous alliance?"

"Remove? Not forever, but temporarily, yes. If that's what it takes. Acxa," Lotor chuckled. "Are you jealous?"

"Why should I be?" she asked coolly. She let it hang in the air until Lotor frowned in doubt, but then to cover her annoyance, she merely shrugged. "She'll never keep up with you. You'll get bored."

He laughed again. "Oh, I've no doubt she's nowhere near as... experienced. She was barely more than a child when Alfor sent the castle away. The last 10,000 years have passed in the blink of an eye for her." He settled back again and closed his eyes. "She'll be easily manipulated."

Acxa sat up a little more. "And you? Can you...feign attraction so easily?"

Lotor raised his eyebrows. His arm drifted to stroke the downy fur of her stomach with the back of his hand. "Why Acxa, you _are_ jealous," he said with amusement. "Can it be? Do you think my affection for you is not genuine?" He shook his head, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. "You must be aware that it's poor policy for a commander to maintain such a...close personal bond with a subordinate officer."

"I wasn't one of your officers when we met," she growled. She disliked thinking back to the time before he had discovered her, a lowly footsoldier serving in the squadron of a Galran far inferior to her in tactical intuition. Lotor had fought embedded in the company, no one the wiser. She'd treated him as just another half-Galran grunt and he had not corrected her. He must have liked what he had seen, beyond the night they shared, because by the end of the battle, Lotor strongly suggested to their CO that Acxa be promoted. When the Galran had replied with a choice insinuation about Acxa's prospects, Lotor summarily sliced him in two and handed her the posting. He'd told her to make the most of the opportunity. Six phoebs later, she'd earned a ship of her own to command.

"No," he agreed soberly, and looked into her eyes. "But you have been the most loyal...and courageous supporter I could have asked for." He sat up to caress her cheek. "And whatever may happen from here forward, please know, I do wish you to come out well, in the end."

She saw the sincerity on his face, and it mollified her. Pleased to see her capitulation, he dipped his head again to kiss his way down her midline. She pulsed lightly under the touch, emitting an occasional squeak as he hit a ticklish spot. He came to rest on her thigh, forehead just grazing her breast as it hung over him. She tried not to display too much desire. A critical part of their relationship depended on not becoming too attached to this side of him. He was Prince and she, general though she might be, was still a halfbreed upstart to most others' eyes. If he suspected she cared too deeply, he might well put her aside for good. 

Nevertheless, she was uneasy about his plan. It involved too much risk for her liking. She decided to come at it from the angle he had just opened. She stroked his hair gently and said, "Lotor...if we defect to Zarkon, he'll execute us."

"He might," Lotor conceded, burying his head in her lap. "It would be better if you could somehow go directly to Haggar."

"But you hate Haggar," she said in confusion.

"Exactly. She'd take you on, if only to find out what I'm up to. In many ways, she's a far bigger threat than my father." He dipped down as if to lick at her once more, but she hauled him up, eye to eye.

"So you expect us to endure torture," she concluded.

"Not if you can avoid it," he said. 

She glared at him-- a look that would have earned punishment from any other Galran commander. 

He sighed again apologetically and put his hands on her shoulders. "As I said, we can't know all the variables quite yet. You'll have to make the best call you can. If it becomes necessary. With luck, we won't need this fallback plan." He did not say it aloud, but the reassuring scritch he traced down her back communicated faith and trust. As much as Lotor could give, anyway.

"So, at what point do we return to your service?"

"We'll have to figure that out as it comes," he allowed. "Not until after Zarkon's gone, at least. After that…." He shrugged, kissed her neck, reached around to play with her breast. 

"Are you sure your ships will work?" she asked. If Lotor were inclined to disclose information, she meant to glean all she could.

He pursed his lips, thinking. "They're made from the same transreality ore as Voltron. I've had deca-phoebs to perfect the design. Yes. They'll work. The real problem is the rift. Tapping the quintessence field directly. If I can't achieve it on my own, then Princess Allura will be the key."

"And you need her to trust you," Acxa concluded. "Why not just offer alliance now, then? You're in power."

"Not on my own merit, though. No, I can't do that as Emperor Pro Tem: I'd have a full-scale revolt. And I can't do it without anything to bargain with. If I haven't _won_ everything, then it has to seem as if I have _lost_ everything. Allura will hardly believe me if I still have...friends," he observed, stressing the word to make it clear it was both unfamiliar and euphemistic. "But she will extend her protection to an enemy if she believes I have no alternative. It will make her and her Paladins feel magnanimous. Don't worry, my dear Acxa. As I said, she's a child. I hardly think I shall do anything foolish like fall in love." He patted her hand before pulling her back down onto his shoulder. "And now, my dear, your prince needs to sleep."

A few vargas later, Ezor appeared on the announcer screen. "The communications network is going crazy," she reported when Lotor connected. "The rumor is that Emperor Zarkon's back on his feet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In writing this fic, I played around with alien biology (since we have no idea, it's a kids' show!), and also with alien attitudes toward gender. From what we see of the variety of Galra, they may hate halfbreeds but they will screw anything they meet, apparently. On the other hand, one of the things I do notice about the show is that they have a VERY binary attitude toward gender (for virtually every species and race we've encountered). Which I wish they would do a little better. Galra society is far from egalitarian, though, so while I am going to far as to say that acknowledge more than a binary system of gender, I don't think it's necessarily expressed super-perfectly.


	2. A Change of Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Becoming a willing prisoner has unexpected side effects. Lotor makes the acquaintance of Team Voltron.

From the beginning, he had counted on Allura's sense of decency and justice. But he had not counted on her kindness.

"I think it's time we had a discussion," he had told them, knowing it would mean captivity. They did not disappoint. The Altean advisor tossed him into the cell like a sack of tubogallums. Lotor had no time to adjust before hitting his already tender shoulder on the edge of the sleeping platform. He refused to ask for medical attention. He doubted their healing pods could accommodate Galran biology, even if they would allow him to use one. So it ached, every time he moved, for quintants. 

Quintants while they watched him. Interrogated him. Questioned his motives. It was all to be expected. He fed them what he knew they would want to hear. Some of it was even true--most, in fact. More than he cared to admit.

Luckily, he was used to being watched. Scrutinized. Spied upon, even. He knew how to keep a mask in place. He knew how to hide his thoughts, even when he raised the tiny, more opaque area of the cell where the privy was stored. He knew how to remain composed, even in sleep. Which, to be honest, he got little of. If his shoulder were not enough, Allura's majordomo did not believe in turning down the lights above his prison. Sleeping in space, in his ship, had been more comfortable.

It left him nothing but time to think. That was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, he wanted nothing more than a rest, free for a while from the burden of decision. His decisions lately, he reflected, had not served him as he'd have liked. Yet that was the problem with being left to brood over his errors. Allowing Voltron to track them to Ulippa. Losing the Teludav fragment. Stupidly exposing Narti to Haggar's psychic control. Playing into his father's rejection perhaps too readily, eager to be done with the charade of leading the empire. And then, worst of all, running out of time. Flinging them all headlong into a blind gamble, when he only had half the cards he needed. Acxa had done as he'd advised her, almost too well. She had taken him at his lowest point, after his careful plans had had to be rushed in their final stages, leading to utter disaster. When the culmination of centa-phoebs of work had come crashing down around him. She could not have timed her feigned betrayal better.

_Was_ it entirely feigned? (He wondered at one point, lying on the platform attempting to sleep, seeing only points of brightness above where the lights burned steadily.) Narti's death had shocked them all, and there had been no time to explain, and Acxa had been particularly close to Narti once. He could believe she wished to repay him for that loss.

But no, she had given him just enough slack in his bonds to allow him to escape Zethrid, and when he ejected his brash, excitable general, Acxa had stayed to retrieve her, allowing him to zoom away. So, as angry as she might have been (and as frightened that their plans were failing), he assured himself he could still count on her if the time came to reunite his team.

He had always hoped to use Voltron as a last resort, but he hadn't paused to consider how it would _feel_ to actually be down to his last option. To be isolated and alone in ways he had not felt in thousands of deca-phoebs. 

He wanted to scream. He desperately wished he could kick something, batter at the barrier just to feel its electric burn, punch the Altean in his ridiculous facial hair. Demand an explanation from the ancient gods of Altea, or extract compensation from the universe for his disappointments. But he could not afford a tantrum, much as he wished he could indulge. Dayak had taught him millienia ago the price for any such display, calling it the height of self-pity and weakness. And weakness in this place would set him back precious movements he did not have.

His shoulder hurt. His father's forces found him so quickly, he'd barely recovered from the shocks of the previous vargas: waking amid the disorientation and headache of Acxa's stungun; realizing what had happened; popping his arm to release his bonds and then having to evade (pretend to evade?) the others. Then, just when he thought he could rest, outrunning his father's fleet the only way he had available, wrenching the tender joint in the process. When he finally found an empty sector where he could regroup, he'd immediately scanned the frequencies for news of a battle, seizing his chance to buy goodwill in exchange for safe harbor. 

Whatever the inconvenience, it had certainly provided all the opportunity he needed to make a convincing refugee. And he could not have asked for a better entrance than saving that rebel fleet and ruining the witch's plan, as well. 

When the Paladins asked, he explained the bare bones of events without embellishment. The facts were accurate, if pathetic. He remained patient, feeding their pity. The temporary humiliation would reap his desired benefits in the end.

In the meantime, though, his shoulder hurt. So far as he could tell, it was his fourth quintant in the fishbowl, as he thought of it. He sat on the bed, bracing his good arm against his thigh, while the Paladins squabbled (they seemed always to be bickering). He was not used to bickering, but he was used to waiting, so he waited until he found an opening to interject some sense into the conversation. Suddenly, Allura narrowed her eyes at him.

"Are you...injured?" she asked. It was the first hint of concern for his well-being she had shown, and it seemed she was more impatient than solicitous about it.

"What makes you say that?" Lotor replied. He was also used to maintaining stoicism in the face of pain. Had he faltered?

"I've noticed you lean like that often, but never on the left side. Did Coran do that to you?"

It was useless to protest that the Altean could have harmed him. Dainty little Allura herself could probably deadlift him if she tried, given Altean strength. He weighed his response. He could play the injury for pity, but she would know it as a ploy. Demanding that the servant's insolence be punished would have been his father's way and would cement him as a Galran savage in their eyes. Allura was soft, despite the fact that she always appeared before him in (rather fetching) armor. And she was fond of the odd little Altean and his oddly grotesque mustache, so he ruled out acting insulted or blaming the majordomo. The only logical alternative was the truth. He forced his face into a bland look of shock. "No--it was already damaged, in my escape from General Zethrid and my father's subsequent pursuit. It's merely sore. I shall be fine soon enough."

"Shiro," Allura said, "keep an eye on our guest. Pidge," she requested, addressing the tiny human (a counterfemale, perhaps?), "lower the forcefield, please."

They protested. She prevailed. Lotor did not move. Allura stepped onto the plinth and held up an open palm. "Will you allow me?" she asked. At his single nod, she placed her hand on his left shoulder. At first he felt nothing, but after a few ticks, warmth spread over the area. Within a dobosh, he could feel the bones and the pulled tendons renew themselves, knit back into place as if they had never been traumatized. She stepped back and said, "Is that better?"

Careful to move slowly, Lotor made a circle with his shoulder: up, back, down, forward. He reached across to press the formerly sore spot and tested his range of motion. "Much better, thank you," he said gently.

Allura stepped back, nodding to Pidge. The forcefield beamed to separate them again. As quickly as she had shown concern, she turned cold again. "Good. You'll be less distracted if you're not in pain. Continue. You were telling us about the Galran base?"

He thought about that gentle touch for the next three vargas, and again while the Paladins were out completing their mission. His hand kept drifting up to his rotator cuff, as if he could recall her warmth by tracing the spot where she had made contact. She had the power to heal. He suppressed a thrill of excitement: perhaps Altean alchemy would not be beyond her. There was hope yet.

He laid down that night without pain. After a few doboshes, he noticed that the glare coming through his eyelids had lessened. He opened his eyes to confirm: they had dimmed his chamber for sleep.

~

Over the next several quintants, he received visit after visit from Allura, usually accompanied by the austere Shiro. Occasionally, the irritating pilot in blue armor would tottle after her as well. He was by far the most suspicious, which was saying something considering how hostile little Pidge could be. For a small thing, the Green Paladin packed an inordinate amount of vitriol.

Lotor ignored them, the besotted, gangling youth and the little spitfire. He focused on Shiro and Allura, appealing to logic and tactical sense. The two were clearly the most mature of the bunch. The Princess remained particularly aloof, which he found amusing and frustrating, but not unexpected. In fact, her compassion in healing his shoulder had surprised him much more than any animosity she now displayed. "Play your part," he told himself over and over, while maintaining as mild a demeanor as he could muster.

He had planned to wait at least a phoeb before attempting to charm Allura, but in the second quintant of his second movement in their company, an odd thing happened. They were discussing the infiltration of a Galran supply depot on Pollamakh. Without prompting, Allura asked, "Wait. The Pollamakhi system's third planet has seventeen moons. Isn't there an outpost on the largest one?"

"Yes, there is," he confirmed. "I was just getting to that: someone will have to take out its observation station before you approach the planet surface. Perhaps one of your contacts can undertake that for you, for the optimal timing." He could have stopped there, but for some reason, he continued, "Pollamakh wasn't even terraformed 10,000 years ago, much less colonized. I'm impressed you've studied so much astronography in such a short time."

Allura's dark skin darkened further -- in anger. "The Galra spread over the galaxy like a disease while we slept in this castle," she shot back at him. "Did you think we would not familiarize ourselves with everything that changed in the interim?"

"On the contrary, I assumed you would do just that. I merely meant that you've made up a great deal of ground. Between the short time since you emerged from cryosleep, and the other priorities you must face, it's quite an undertaking. It speaks well to your early training and your discipline." He felt his eyes widening in an attempt to appear conciliatory. "I meant no offense," he said with genuine contrition.

Allura frowned, lips in a tight line. "You would do well to remember that it's _your_ people's fault I spent 10,000 years in that cryochamber," she said primly. "If I have a lot of ground to cover, it's because your father annexed a lot of ground."

"Let's get back to the plan," the one called Shiro suggested.

Afterward, while reciting for Pidge countless security codes, troop positions, and base locations, as well as the major prison colonies, Lotor considered his miscalculation. No, not a miscalculation. That would imply he had consciously chosen to compliment her. A mistake. That was more accurate. He had pushed forward too soon. Allura was as yet unwilling to believe he would make any personal observation without an ulterior motive. Her suspicions were raised further, because he had spoken without thinking. 

Why, though? Why had he--

"Hellooooo, are you there?" Pidge called in a piercing, sing-song voice. 

He refocused on the diminutive counterfemale. "Hm?" he asked absently.

"Was that last coordinate 0074 or 0047?" she said.

He corrected the number automatically. Curse it, he thought, to lose his concentration over Allura's opinion of him. He did not care what she thought. Yet it did matter. He needed her to trust him, and thanks to his negligence, he now had to work doubly hard to win her respect.

For some reason, Shiro was more receptive. He had a business-like, practical attitude Lotor found refreshing, compared to the emotional outbursts of everyone else on board. Even the large one, Hunk, whom Lotor surmised piloted the yellow lion and was thus likely the friendliest, was given to nervous chatter and needless eruptions of feeling. It was like being held prisoner in a nursery, more than in an Altean fortress.

Shiro was different. He was still and calm where the others were phrenetic. He seemed to take Lotor's statements at face value more than the others--not that he trusted Lotor or the intelligence he provided, only that he came round to accepting it in good faith earlier than anyone else. 

And over the movements, Lotor observed the open affection they all had for one another. He began to recognize that their constant quarrels were sometimes simple banter. He became more accustomed to the good-natured teasing which the Paladins exchanged. Though he still didn't understand it, he no longer found it so irritating. It seemed cosy and familiar. Ezor had described the feeling to him once, or attempted to. "When you're born in a litter, and you grow up with sibs all tangled in your tail, you can tell the difference between an insult and a joke," she said. "You have to, or everyone would kill everyone before their first solo hunt."

It was a peculiar family, without a doubt. Then again, he had no real basis for comparison.

"You know," he said unguardedly, some quintants later, "I may be a prince, and son to an emperor, but you, Princess, have more powerful tools at your command than I ever had as Emperor Pro Tem."

"And just how do you come to that conclusion?" she snipped, arms crossed."Have you been calculating our numbers among the coalition?" She turned angrily to Shiro. "I thought I said he was not to be given any specifics about our forces."

"The only specifics I have are the observations I made, both outside this room and inside it," Lotor said quickly. "Zarkon leads through fear, intimidation, and brute force. You, Princess, have your companions'--love." He almost regretted turning the phrase, it sounded so treacly and unnatural to his ears. Yet it caused her to regard him, for a moment, with something like sympathy.

"Can you guarantee that this outpost you've told us about is crewed only by a handful?" she asked forcefully.

"Guarantee? No, it's been almost a phoeb since I've had access to Galran intelligence. But the other targets I've given you probably haven't triggered any obvious breach from within. Unless something significant has happened in my absence, it should be an easy mark as well."

"I don't think we can expect a more honest answer," Shiro said cautiously.

"I don't think he knows the meaning of honesty," Allura said scathingly, "but, I will settle for an accurate assessment. Gaining this base will provide the Blades with a foothold in the Hallumian sector. That's an entire quadrant we've yet to penetrate." She pointed a slim finger at him. "However. This is a perfect opportunity to lure us into a trap, like he did on Thayserix."

"Your Paladins _chased_ me to Thayserix," Lotor parried quickly, "And I could have finished them off there, if I'd desired. I was merely testing your new pilot configurations to see what they were capable of."

"That's a lie," Allura accused, eyes flashing. "You almost killed me out there. I survived only because I unlocked Blue's ice cannons and got away."

The yellows of Lotor's eyes widened, and his purple irises drew into pinpricks. " _You're_ the new Blue Paladin?" he breathed, suddenly connecting that the armor she wore was not merely symbolic. "My compliments, then. You were brilliant in that engagement."

"Of course Allura's got Blue, who did you think?" interjected the lanky young one with short fringe. "There's five of us and five lions. She's in _armor_. She's got the blue bayard, doesn't--oh," he trailed off, realizing that Allura held no weapon.

"Yours is the blue armor, though, is it not?" Lotor countered, suppressing a snarl that would display his fangs. It was difficult to restrain himself when the boy so clearly wished to play dominance games, particularly where Allura was concerned. 

"Well, yeah. But she wears pink to honor--"

"Honor the fallen," Lotor finished in a flash of insight. "Altean tradition." He nodded. "How fitting, Princess. Again, my compliments." He inclined to her in a shallow bow, Altean fashion, as one would an equal.

If Allura were disinclined to believe his words, the significance of his gesture was not lost on her. She blushed just a hair and stammered, "Er… Yes. Well. Shiro, hadn't we better get on with it?"

"Ah, yes, I suppose. All right, everyone, we're go in 30 minutes, let's move out."

The annoying younger pilot dawdled behind the others. When he was sure they were alone, he jabbed an accusatory finger toward Lotor's face. Between the raised platform and their relative heights, the effect was much more comical than threatening. "You listen to me: don't play a playah. I've got my eye on you."

"What." Lotor wrinkled his nose. "There are camfeeds in here every tick of the quintant. Of course you have eyes on me."

"Not what I mean, pretty boy," the other said, waving his hand like some sort of traffic sentry. "I know what you're trying to do to Allura and trust me, it's not gonna work. I should know."

"Oh? And what am I trying?" Lotor asked, hiding his amusement.

The youth pointed to himself with both thumbs. "Ya boi Lance has already gone the flattery route, the mad respect route, and the sincere pep talk method. She's not buying. So stop selling!"

Lotor raised an eyebrow under his long, unruly tail of fringe. "Am I to understand that you think I am making advances upon the Princess?"

"Are you kidding? Of course you are! Look at her! Anyone can see she's the most beautiful person in this or any other galaxy! I see you watching her and making all nice, like you think she's better than the rest of us. Well, let me tell you something: You don't fool me, Purplestiltskin, I _know_ you're just stringing her along so we let down our guard and you can take over the castle. Loverboy Lance can smell a line a light year away."

"Mm. Because I take it you've succeeded, with these, ah, lines of yours?" Lotor inquired.

"Well, I--no--that's not--We're not talking about me!" he cried, flustered. "I'm just saying, you don't stand a chance and I am not gonna let you sink your fangs into her, you big, gorgeous...white haired demon."

Lotor felt a bubble of air rising in his throat, and tried to suppress it, but he could no longer keep it in. It expelled into his closed mouth and emerged from the back of his nose in a snort. Then as he attempted to bite his lips together, it burst out as a bark of laughter. "You think, because you, a common human, have failed to secure the affections of a Royal Princess of Altea, no one else can capture her interest?" He laughed harder than he had in phoebs. "Truly, Paladin, that is...extraordinary hubris, I must say. But set your mind at rest. I have no designs of that nature."

"No des--Are you gay?" Lance asked suddenly. "Ohmygod, you are, you're gay, aren't you? Oh, jeez, look, when I said you were pretty I didn't mean I would be--"

"You're babbling. And you've wasted five doboshes when you should be preparing to strike," Lotor told him. "As to your question...I don't know quite what 'gay' means in this context, but I will tell you that in my-- _vast_ \--experience, one cannot attract any mate, especially a full female, unless she finds her suitor is worthy of her attention. And that requires understanding that she has a will of her own, a capable mind, and the power to use both." With that, he sat upon the sleeping platform and swung his legs onto it, effectively dismissing the boy.

Vargas later, while he was reciting old histories in his mind to occupy himself, he faltered. Instead of the next line of Kroth the Younger's epic account of the "Battle of Melgrain," he found himself visualizing Allura at the controls of her lion. She was indeed beautiful, and fierce, and very, very special. 

It made him forget the poem altogether.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has everyone binged S7 yet? 
> 
> I'm still camping but I took a brief trip back to the land of technology just to catch up and to post this chapter update. (And make sure nothing in the new season Joss'd the story. [Without spoiling, good news/bad news: Nothing Joss'd per se, some things in fact confirmed. But I have...questions. Many, many questions.]
> 
> Anyway, I will be working on finishing this story's draft in the next week or two, so expect Chapter 3 sometime later in August, and remaining chapters will be posted when available, or when I'm far enough ahead to post safely. If you want to make sure not to miss an update, please subscribe so you'll get notifications.
> 
> If you're enjoying this, please feel free to drop a comment, check out my other fics here on AO3, or follow me on tumblr @gwenlygrace.


	3. A Meeting of the Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pleading for one's life can offer unexpected benefits. Lotor attempts to gain Allura's support.

He was growing tired of this tedium. Allura's reticence, after all she'd been through, was just barely understandable. But he'd been among the Paladins for movements, now. Despite providing golden information and opportunities for the Coalition, he was still being treated as a prisoner. The Black Paladin, Shiro, was the only one who seemed to be coming round to his point of view.

He'd not trained nor drilled in all that time. His only exercise had been what he could manage within the confines of the little cell. As for other pursuits, there was no indulging them. He'd been given no datapads, no access to the ship's libraries, and in terms of relieving tension...well, he could hardly see to _that_ while he was under constant surveillance. He missed Acxa, Ezor, and Zethrid. He wondered if they were all right. 

At least with the lights cycling now, and the daily briefings, it was easier to keep track of the passing quintants. Yet with each one slipping away, he grew more impatient to be trusted, to be given opportunities to move them forward toward their common goals. The trouble was, Allura still didn't accept that they had any goals in common.

He finally snapped around the time they destroyed the Moon of Tragoch and still wanted more proof of his good faith. He appealed every way he could think to convince them, but it seemed, ironically, that every accurate piece of intelligence he provided only made them more suspicious. Allura in particular threw his actions in his face, and the team was more divided than before.

"I only ask you to judge me by my actions, rather than your preconceptions of my race," he said, growing frustrated by the way they clung to their prejudice, especially Allura. They all took their lead from her, even with Shiro subtly pressing in his favor. He forced himself to a humble reticence. "If that is beyond you, then perhaps you should just finish me and get it over with. Clearly, Princess, you are not ready to end this war."

Something in what he said must have sunk in, finally, even as they came begging for yet another gesture of goodwill. Lotor was running out of safe missions to give them. He decided it was time to raise the stakes. 

"I have some information I believe you would consider important on a more personal level. There is a prison, formerly under my control. It houses a special inmate…."

He did warn them that he could have no way of knowing whether Sam Holt was still there. It wasn't hard to see the resemblance between him and his daughter, and with the name Matt Holt had made for himself among the freedom fighters, it would not take a genius to realize the doctor could be a valuable bargaining chip. 

"I'm truly sorry you were unable to recover him," he told them all, and meant it. 

Some time later, Shiro came to see him alone. It was late evening, by Lotor's calculation. It was rare for the human to come by himself, without Allura. What was not rare was the Black Paladin's customary directness. "We've heard from Zarkon," he said simply. "It seems he knows we have you, as well."

"Ah. _He_ moved Dr. Holt," Lotor surmised. A cold sweat broke over his back. His knees trembled slightly. 

"Yes."

"So. I'm to become a pawn as well. Is that it?"

"That's for the team to decide," Shiro said simply.

"Where is 'the team?'" Lotor asked.

"I thought perhaps we should discuss it first. Before the others come down here. I'm sure you can understand that an exchange is an attractive offer." He kept his tone neutral, but Lotor detected the nuance in what the other was saying. He pressed the opening Shiro provided.

"Shiro, I know they still don't trust me, but believe me when I tell you that whatever they think of me, my father is a hundred times worse. He will never give you Holt and he will execute me if he gets the chance."

Shiro nodded. "I know."

"Then _help_ me," Lotor said urgently. He was running out of time. Allura still loathed him; the Green Paladin was sure to be livid that her father had not been where Lotor indicated, and none of them except Shiro seemed to understand the precipice on which they stood. "I can kill him if I can get close enough. With the right weapon I can put an end to this conflict. It just needs to be put into motion with the correct set of conditions."

"Such as?"

Lotor stepped forward eagerly. Shiro was listening, after all. Thanking whatever ancient powers had given him a chance, Lotor sketched out a few possible scenarios.

"All right," Shiro said. "I'll see what I can do. I can't promise, but--" he twitched slightly, as if running a mental calculation. "I think we can work something out. We'll see what Allura says."

That night, he laid on the platform, heart pounding. He had not stopped weighing the possibilities since Shiro told him of Zarkon's proposed prisoner exchange. Acxa. It had to be Acxa who had stolen Holt out of the prison. He would have made the perfect offering to Zarkon, along with the knowledge that Lotor was with Voltron. It was the only way Zarkon could have confirmed his whereabouts. Which meant, if he could get a powerful enough weapon, he had a slim chance. Acxa would insist on bringing her prize wherever Zarkon planned to affect the swap. If he could signal her, she would let him seize his opportunity. 

It was perfect. Were it not for two--no, three--rather inconvenient problems. The first was getting Allura to agree to work together rather than turn him over to his death. The second was planning his counterattack for the absolute optimal moment. The third was trickiest of all: winning.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been lying there, eyes closed, thinking, but he became aware that he was not alone.

"Princess?" he said after cracking open one eye. "You wished to speak to me?"

She stood there, also alone for once. Her hair was as usual piled in delicate, messy coils, with strands breaking free in attractive curls. He'd visualized that image more often than he cared to admit, these last weeks. "I...did not mean to wake you, but there's news."

It was a lie--she could easily have seen that he was lying down before stepping foot into his holding area, but he let that go. He swung his legs off the platform and leaned forward. "What is it? Maybe I can help," he said, forcing himself to remain calm. Had the situation escalated beyond what Shiro already told him?

"'Help' is not how I would characterize it," she commented. "'Cooperate' might be more apt." She then repeated the information Shiro had already imparted. Ah. So, either they were attempting to test his reactions to two different disclosures, or Shiro had not coordinated his visit with her. He bet the latter and gave no hint that he already knew what she had come to tell him. Clearly it was weighing on her mind, if she had come down to talk to him in the middle of the night. He sensed that he might be able to break through her walls, if he handled it right.

"How soon does he want to set the exchange?" Lotor asked, his fingers laced to keep them from clenching.

She blanched. "You agree, just like that?" Her eyes narrowed and even in the dimness, he could see her mouth twist. "I knew it. You're itching to return to the Galra! You've been doing Zarkon's bidding all along. This has all been a ruse, hasn't it?"

"You could not be more wrong, Princess," he said in alarm. "I'm not agreeing to anything and I'm far from eager to go back. I'm asking how long I have to convince you not to do this." He stood. "Handing me over to Zarkon is tantamount to ordering my execution. Surely you realize that? I've no wish to die and I've certainly no wish to see your aspirations destroyed, either. I want to end the war, as do you."

"Restoring Sam Holt to his family is our goal right now," Allura said, crossing her arms. "If ridding ourselves of you gets us that in the bargain, then isn't that a double benefit?"

Stung, he snarled: "Has my assistance meant so little?"

"Your assistance has been productive. But you're still our enemy."

He bowed his head and dropped any hint of haughtiness. "I've no wish to be. There is no reason for us to be at odds, Princess."

"None," she quipped, "other than the fact that you're Zarkon's son."

He sighed. "Please, listen to me. If you hate me because I'm Galra, I...I understand that. But do not sign my death warrant without first knowing what you are throwing away." He fought not to echo her closed posture, instead extending his hands, palms up. "I came to you freely and I've submitted to your captivity without complaint, without expecting immediate acceptance, but with the hope that we could work together to end Galran oppression. I've spent my entire life fighting to preserve what cultures and peoples I can in the face of Zarkon's tyranny."

"Can you prove anything you say?" she asked, hands on her hips. "You're his heir! Haggar did not hesitate to install you on the the throne when we incapacitated Zarkon. You're just as responsible for Galran oppression as any other commander--perhaps moreso. You're only trying to propose an alliance so you can double-cross us later."

"It's _Zarkon_ who will double-cross you, Princess," he said, voice rising again. "He will never adhere to whatever terms you set for this exchange. You'll never recover Holt, you'll send me to my death, and you will leave yourself vulnerable to whatever Zarkon's next move is." He took a step forward. "He is obsessed with recapturing Voltron. If he's come back from his deathbed, you can be assured he's even more dependent on quintessence than ever, which makes him even harder to kill. Believe nothing else I tell you, but hear this much: Zarkon _must_ be destroyed. Utterly, irrevocably. The universe is not safe while he is alive and on the throne. I can help you put a stop to him if you let me, and you can help me end his legacy of--of _cruelty_ and _carnage_!" He paused, realizing that his breath had become uneven and his heart was racing. His last few sentences had become strangled with the effort not to shout, and his words had come out in a snarling, almost hysterical sob. He had drifted forward again, as well, so that his nose almost bumped the barrier. His hands had balled into fists and his claws were biting into his palms.

She saw it. Her eyes widened in surprise. "You--you despise him," she said suddenly. "But you're his son!"

Her obvious confusion hit him like a breaking wave. An intense feeling of shame overtook him, that she could look at him like that. She really could not comprehend how any parent or child could feel disdain or hatred for one another. He looked away, unable to meet her gaze, and afraid his voice would crack if he tried. "In name only," he confessed sadly. "Not all of us are so lucky in our fathers, Princess. King Alfor was a pillar of greatness, a brilliant alchemist, a devoted ruler, and your royal family was blessed with happiness. He loved you completely, unconditionally. Zarkon loves only himself."

"Did you--know my father?" she asked quietly. "How, when I had no idea--"

"No, I never had the honor of meeting him," Lotor admitted. "I do envy you the time you had together. The accounts I've read of your training, the way he prepared you to follow him…." He regarded her again, focusing on her circlet so that he could appear to look in her eyes, but he did not have to register the emotions at play in them. He would rather have met her directly, but the slight shift was necessary, to maintain his composure. "It shows, you know. The way you lead. It shows that you had a strong foundation, built upon a bedrock of security and--and love." He cleared his throat of a little dust that had settled there.

Her eyes filmed over with fine mist. "My father was concerned only for my happiness and well-being, it's true. He made sure I had all the tools I need, even if he never could have anticipated we would be here, 10,000 years later, still fighting the battle he tried to avoid." She wiped her eye a tick later and with a sniff, composed herself. "But it seems to me _your_ father was grooming you, as well. All those bases and planets you visited, all the postings and territories you say you've held over the centuries. Is there any part of the empire you haven't been to? Anything you weren't charged to do? And you performed your duties. You were learning how to run the empire."

"I was being sent hither and yon, anywhere Zarkon would not have to look at me," he said simply. He took on a quiet, intimate tone. "My mother did not survive childbirth, and whatever might have drawn my father to her, it died when she did. One look at me and whatever he felt for her turned only to shame and disgust at the impure embarrassment she had left behind. So he hid me away, exiled me, kept me in the farthest systems and the coldest corners of the galaxy." He sank onto the steps, crossing his feet, to move his head below hers so she could see him more closely. "Early on, my caretakers assured me that it was for my protection, because if anyone knew he had a son, I would become a target for kidnappers and assassins. I came to understand that while that may have been partially true, it was for a much simpler reason: He can't stand the sight of me." He circled his spread knees with his elbows, locking his hands for support. "My entire life, I've been told only that I will never be strong enough, never worthy, never truly Galra. And from the first time I can remember meeting my father face-to-face, he has never had a kind or complimentary word for me. Every position I've been given was a test, and according to him, I failed each one, on every level. I attempted to improve, to reform, to abate the cruelties of his empire, you see. And that was an insult to him and to the Galra way."

She paused before answering, then bowed her head slightly. "If that's true...I'm sorry," she said.

"Why?" He shrugged, and braced his elbows on his legs to rest his chin in his hands. "There's nothing for you to be sorry for. It simply is."

"Still. I am sorry. You're right--my father was nothing like that."

He smiled sadly. "It's...difficult for Galra to accept sympathy, but thank you."

"But he was still attempting to prepare you to rule," she continued, more coldly.

Lotor sighed and shook his head. "Perhaps, in a twisted sense. But to rule _his_ way, never mine. And his sort of empire, built only on conquest and oppression.

"But even if there's truth in what you say, understand this, Princess: Zarkon means _never_ to give up the throne. He will extend his life forever if he can, using quintessence. His thirst for it is insatiable, as is his need for power. So I am unnecessary in his view, and a threat to him, as well as inadequate."

"Forever?" she repeated. A look of fear crossed her face.

"Yes. That's what I've been trying to tell you." He leaned forward and spoke with all the earnestness he could muster. "The empire runs on quintessence. The promise of it is its stock and trade. It's a form of privilege: The higher one's rank, the higher one's ration, the more regular one's access to it. Commoners and foot soldiers will probably never experience a drop of the stuff, but the commanders, the officials, those with influence and power or those who are willing to corrupt power, they receive a limited personal supply. As you know, it extends our lifetimes exponentially. My own father's addiction to it has led him and his witch to mine entire planets for the quintessence they contain. You've seen it yourself. The Komar was an abomination: a needless barbarism, and a waste of resources." He rose again. "I told you before: I mean to end the Galra's rapacious culture and replace it with one that has no need for destructiveness. _We_ can bring his reign to an end, and furnish everyone with all the clean energy they will ever need. But we can't do it if I'm in here. And we can't succeed if you throw me onto his sword." He tried to move forward, realized he was about to hit the barrier, and checked himself. Instead, he lowered his chin to look directly into her face. "Princess, I--I know I seem desperate to save my life. Of course I am. But I'm not lying when I say that I have a plan. It will work, I know it will. It must. I've failed in my previous attempts--and I've made more than one attempt--but I know _why_ they failed, now. I hadn't met you."

Her head snapped up, defensive.

"Don't take that as insolence," he said, holding up his hands in surrender. "I'm not using a...what does your Red Paladin call it? a 'line'. I only meant that I believe _you_ are the key to unlocking the source of unlimited quintessence I've been searching for. Your father's powers have been passed on to you--not just his diplomacy or his integrity, but his abilities. You healed my shoulder; you can create wormholes for this ship. I assume you can shapeshift as well?"

She nodded slowly. "That's a common ability, though," she pointed out.

He continued: "Yes, but it further proves my point. You've unlocked powers in the lions no one's ever seen before. I believe you can take King Alfor's achievements to new levels, and I want, more than anything else, to see that come to fruition. I have only _ever_ wanted peace. Now, that goal is closer than I've ever thought possible. So I would hate to die before I can see it become a reality."

He deflated, realizing that he'd grown intense again. "Just...think about what I've said," he pleaded abjectly, with a self-deprecating smile. He returned to the sleeping platform and dropped onto it heavily. 

"You asked us once before to believe you or finish you," Allura murmured. "It seems we must finally make that choice. But you're wrong about one point: Whatever we decide, Sam Holt must be rescued."

He blinked. "Of course. I never said you ought to abandon him."

"But--"

"I said Zarkon will entrap you all if he can. I never said there isn't a way around it. Only that we ought to work together to achieve the best outcome: Zarkon dead, Voltron safe, and Sam Holt back with his children."

"Hm." She stared at him for a long time, saying nothing. He waited in silence, allowing her to be the one to speak next. She looked away, into the deep pit surrounding his prison chamber, and sighed. "You've asked me to think about it and I shall. We'll discuss it with the team in the morning."

He rose and bowed. "Thank you, Princess. I...hope you make the best decision, for all our sakes."

She inclined her head graciously, turned, and walked out. Her footsteps echoed long after the doors closed behind her.

Lotor cradled his face in his hands. "Fool, fool, fool," he muttered to himself, remembering that he was still being captured on vidcam. He sat up and schooled his face into his calm mask, but he was sweating again, and his hands shook as he folded them in his lap.

He ought never to have told her so much about himself; it was weak. It was vulgar. She'd seen his desperation and assumed he was spinning an elaborate tale about his life to win her pity. It was too much, too quickly. He hoped he'd made a dent in her resolute hatred, but it seemed more and more likely that Shiro was his one ally among the lot. He'd have to be especially persuasive tomorrow, in front of the whole team.

Although...it occurred to him as he laid back down to sleep, she had shown him some regard, that night, beyond perfunctory politeness. Her little bow was, for an Altean, a strong gesture of respect. He reminded himself again that Allura's emotions tended toward softness, sympathy, and compassion. If she was starting to see him as a victim of Zarkon's oppression, then it followed she might also see their similarities rather than their differences. His stomach did a little somersault at the thought. Allura might yet be warming to him. It boded well for his chances of staying alive. It boded well for the possibility that they could see his plans through to their ends. Perhaps he wasn't such a fool to tip his hand, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all! 
> 
> I'm working steadily on Chapter 6 right now, and while (as usual) I'm discovering more to say and do as we go along, I think I'm correct in estimating about 8 chapters total. I'll issue a warning now (and later when it gets added), but Chapter 5 goes into some dark territory, y'all. Lotor's had a long life, and in fine vampiric tradition, has some pretty extreme experiences. So consider yourselves warned that Chapter 5 has some horror elements. 
> 
> (Also, I gather that some Sheith and Klance shipping wars have started up again... I just want to say for the record that I am a Sheith shipper but I see exactly where Klance shippers are coming from. I get it. I don't know that it'll come up in this fic in particular, but I want to say that there will be NO trash-talking of ships or shippers in this space. Kay? Thanks.)


	4. The Lesser of Two Evils

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura's still not ready to trust Lotor, but, in light of his duel against Zarkon, she might be willing to reconsider her low opinion of him. It would be easier if Shiro were not so quick to take his part.

Lotor could have used the healing pod, but he was still too proud, it seemed, to ask for help. While the others made use of the chambers, Allura offered to heal his wounds from his battle. 

"I'm fine," he said flatly, eyes cloaked by dark thoughts she could only imagine. 

"How many ribs did you break?" she asked knowingly.

That earned half a smile. He touched his side gingerly. "Three, no-- _hsss!_ \--four on the right. Two on the left?"

"And your hand?" she asked, pointing. "And the burn on your leg? It could become infected."

" _Palen-bol_ ," he snorted. She had no idea what he meant, but the tone was rueful. 

"Please, if you don't wish to use the pod, at least let me take care of it. It's no trouble."

"If you wish," was his only answer. 

She moved closer, willing herself not to shake. With a deep breath, she placed her hands on his sides. He looked down at her and suddenly she felt aware of her heart pounding. His breath puffed the top of her head and her hair fluttered. She closed her eyes. Concentrating on the energy all round her, she opened her mind, and let the life force flow out of her fingers through Lotor's suit, into his taut flesh, and into the bones beneath.

Perspiration formed on her scalp. It dripped in rivulets down her collar. In addition to the broken bones, she detected internal bleeding, additional burn trauma, and a mild concussion. There were hundreds of old injuries, long healed, as well. She'd noted a few of them earlier, when she'd fixed his shoulder. Now that she was not so focused on just one problem, the scar tissue glowed more prominently in her consciousness. She left it all alone, concentrating on the fresh wounds. She shook with the effort to accelerate his recovery. A pair of strong hands guided her to sit without losing contact. With a final pulse of energy, Allura judged that the damage had been reversed. She withdrew her healing magic, but hesitated to take her hands away. Lotor's were warm over hers.

"I--hope that helped," she said softly.

Lotor drew a deep breath. He released her hands slowly, either with reluctance or just distraction. He probed his side. "Thank you. Again," he added.

"I… of course," she replied awkwardly. 

He got to his feet. "You'll be taking me back to my cell, I assume?" he said. It wasn't snide or haughty; his voice still maintained a flat affect, as if it made no difference to him.

"No...that...won't be necessary," Allura told him. She looked to Coran. "Coran, will you ready a cabin for Lotor?" 

"I still say the cell's the safest place, Princess, but--as you will," Coran said. With an appraising glare at Lotor, he took his leave.

Allura watched him go, then turned back to Lotor. "I'm sure you wish to rest. But if you're up to it, I would like to hear your account of what happened."

He raised his eyebrows. "Yes, naturally," he breathed. "As I'd suspected, Zarkon planned to trick you. He sent a hologram of Dr. Holt--"

"Yes, I understand that," she interrupted. "I was more interested in how you came to fight Zarkon, and how you were able to--to kill him." She finished, but realized too late that she probably ought not to have put it so baldly. He might have hated his father, but that did not make what he had done easy.

"Ah. Your Black Paladin provided his bayard to me just before we disembarked. He hid it where I could use it to cut my bonds."

"Shiro _gave_ you the black bayard?" Allura repeated. "Did you ask him to do so?"

His eyes glittered against their yellow sclerae. "I'm afraid Shiro may not have told you that he came to see me separately. I told him much the same as I told you--that we needed to work together if we were to prevent a double-cross." He shrugged. "We discussed several options for success. You'd have to ask him why he chose to do as he did."

"I see," she said, though she felt far from clarity. Shiro had been behaving strangely, short-tempered, impatient, and autocratic, and here was another indication that he was keeping secrets. And of course, he was currently unavailable to give his side of it. Suppressing her fury at him for not consulting them all, she fell back on her recent forays into diplomacy. "Well...at least Zarkon's no longer a threat. It--must have been a very difficult fight for you."

"It's a fight I've wanted for thousands of deca-phoebs," he said, listless and tired. It was as if he had been drained of his essence. 

"But...it still wasn't easy, I'm sure. Beyond physically, I mean. Zarkon was formidable. But he was also your father."

His eyes flicked down to hers, blue irises almost imperceptible, so small their pinpoints. If his gaze could burn, it would. "I told you before, Princess. Zarkon was my father in name only. The universe is better off without him. We are all better off without him."

She stammered, "Well...yes, of course. I suppose you're in a bit of shock." The communicator pinged; Coran's face appeared on the screen. 

"Lotor's quarters are ready, Princess," he said, and told them where they were.

"I can...show you to them," Allura offered. "It'll be a few doboshes before the others are ready to leave their pods. You can--sleep, if you need it."

Lotor took a deep breath, and smiled. He seemed resolved, suddenly, to push away the thoughts distracting him, and looked at her with new focus. "Your healing has me a little keyed up, I think. I feel I could take on the strongest gladiators in the arena."

"Galran barbarism," she muttered. To her surprise, he blushed.

"Yes, it is. I'm sorry; I didn't mean to sound bloodthirsty. It's just...the arenas are rather the equivalent of Galran training grounds."

"If it's training you want, please, feel free to use our simulator deck."

"I wish I'd had access to it earlier. I could have used the preparation."

She glanced at him. His tone had been free from reproach, and there was no trace of bitterness in his face as he said it, but she knew he was bringing up a sore point. After the decision had been made and negotiations entered, Lotor had asked for access to the training deck. "If I'm not killed immediately, I suspect I'll be heading for someplace rough," he'd said. "I'm in dire need of exercise. Two vargas a quintant would suffice."

"Absolutely not," Coran had cautioned. Predictably, Pidge and Lance were on his side. Hunk wavered but ultimately said he'd support the majority.

Shiro, however, had favored the request. "He hasn't lied about any of the targets he's given us. We should show him some trust in return." 

She'd had to deny the courtesy, categorically. Knowing they were about to turn him over to Zarkon, he would have been bound to attempt an escape. Of course, now she understood why Shiro had been willing to support Lotor's petition. Had he already planned to help at that time? Or had Lotor brought him around? She'd have to find out later.

But for now, Lotor seemed to have forgiven the imposition and was merely making conversation. "If...if you like, I can give you a tour of the castle. You're welcome to use any of its amenities."

"Thank you," he acknowledged, nodding vaguely. Allura gestured toward the exit. They walked together off the bridge and through the corridors. Other than showing him the lounge, the mess hall, the training deck, and his own cabin, Allura could think of nothing to say.

After she left him at the cabin Coran had selected, she returned to the bridge. Pidge, Commander Holt, and Shiro were all out of their pods. Pidge tackled her father so enthusiastically, it was a wonder he didn't need another healing session. Their happy reunion was almost painful to watch. Allura missed her father so.

Her feelings of loss were easy enough to push away when she saw Shiro. "We need to talk." She gestured for the exit, so as not to disturb the others with her fury.

He followed her into the corridor. "You gave Lotor your bayard?" she shot at him. 

"I did," he confirmed, with no hint of contrition.

"And you didn't tell anyone. You couldn't tell _me_?"

"No, and I'm sorry," he answered, though he still did not sound sorry at all. "I couldn't let the negotiations be compromised. And I wanted to give you cover in case things went badly. The fewer people who knew Lotor would be armed, the better."

"When did you decide to help him?" she demanded.

At last, Shiro hung his head. "Shortly after you refused," he admitted. "I kept hoping you'd change your mind, right up until the moment we left for the exchange."

"And when did you give him the weapon?" she asked, just to check against Lotor's version.

"After we landed. Just before we exited the ship," he corroborated. "It was a risk but it was the only way. Princess, Lotor told the truth. You know he did. He said Zarkon would try to double-cross us and he did. And because I believed Lotor, he's eliminated Zarkon for us."

"It was an unthinkable risk. Pidge's father could have been killed."

"We all could have been. But we weren't." Shiro sighed. "Allura, I know you're angry and you have every right to be. But forgive me, I have the tactical training and experience for these kinds of operations. I made the best call I could."

"You exposed Pidge and her father," she pressed. Surely he would see the wrong in that, if nothing else?

"Pidge is a Paladin and her father is one of the finest men I know. What I did, I did to give them a chance. And it worked." He sighed, crossing his arms. "Princess--isn't it time you stopped assuming the worst about Lotor? He hasn't lied to us, not once, since he proposed working together. I'd say he's proved himself more than sufficiently. And now--he's Emperor. He can single-handedly bring peace to the galaxy."

"I've extended him all the courtesy he deserves," Allura fired back. How dare he accuse her of a lack of hospitality? She was protecting them all! "I've just given him the freedom of the castle."

"Good," Shiro said, though his eyebrows indicated his surprise. "You could treat him more kindly, as well. He's now an ally, after all."

"You don't have to tell me that," she said angrily. She wanted to tell Shiro that he was wrong, about all sorts of things. She'd been more than kind, especially considering that they'd had no reason to trust Lotor. She'd healed him--twice, now--and up until his duel with Zarkon, she'd been entirely justified in holding Lotor at arm's length. As far as she was concerned, all his talk of peace had been just that, talk, until he had killed the Galran ruler. 

But before she could give voice to any of her remonstration, they received a signal from Coran. "Allura, Shiro, we've received communication from Olkarion. Word of Zarkon's death has reached them and the news that we've rescued Dr. Holt from the Galrans. They've requested that we bring Dr. Holt immediately, to assist with their efforts to build their defense systems."

"I'll be right there," Allura said. Shiro followed, but they said no more about his actions. Only later did Allura realize that he'd changed the subject.

~

Despite giving Lotor the run of the ship, it was jarring to see him walk boldly onto the bridge. She tried her best to be welcoming.

"Good morning," she said brightly. "I hope you were comfortable last night?"

"Quite," he said softly, looking out the viewscreens. "We've moved," he observed in surprise, frowning.

"Yes. We're on Olkarion. I would suggest that you go look around but that might not be the most diplomatic course," she added, attempting levity.

He looked at her with almost a snarl. But when he asked his next question, it was with cold politeness. "Princess, where are the other Paladins?" 

"Well...Pidge is with her father and brother in the city. I imagine the others are in their quarters or...somewhere."

"Could you--that is, would you ask them all to join us?"

"I...could, but--why?"

"Because we cannot remain here. Zarkon may be dead but the Empire is far from secure. Please, if you send for them, I can explain to you all at once." 

He seemed still tired, as if he hadn't slept well in spite of his assurance, and a bit testy and distracted. "All right," she conceded, and contacted the group. That done, there was nothing to do but wait. Lotor dropped onto the steps, leaned upon his thighs, laced his hands together, and promptly ignored her completely.

It was fine for the first dobosh or so, but after that, it became unbelievably tense and uncomfortable. He was more living statue than guest.

"I'm sure it won't be long," she said. He sat, still as a stone, almost not registering her attempt to converse. She found his silence rather rude...until she regarded him again, and thought, once more, about what these last few movements must have been like for him. If he was telling the truth, and she had begun to think he was, he had been through quite an ordeal. And the fight he'd undertaken yesterday was without a doubt likely the hardest thing he'd ever done. Even if he hated Zarkon, it must have been a terrible moment. It was hard to conceive of a parent who did not love one, and to have to kill him in self-defense, much less to defend the universe. Yet Lotor had done it, by himself and without backup.

She still had no idea when he'd been born, but she knew he had to be centuries older than she. Yet looking at him again, sitting on the bridge, lost in thought, he actually looked--very young. And very much alone.

"They should be here any minute," she assured him.

"Good," he said softly. "There is much to discuss." His tone remained subdued, almost dejected.

"Are you all right?" she asked, aware that it was probably a ridiculous question, but not sure how else to make the overture.

"I'll be fine," he said, with a catch in his throat.

From nowhere, she felt an urge to reach out, perhaps even to give him a hug. She resisted. Instead, she chose her words with care. "What you did was for the greater good, and for many of us, proof of your intentions for peace."

Rather than answer, he looked to the bridge entry. It opened on the team, and there was no further opportunity to discuss the matter. 

He then surprised them with his revelation that he expected them to fly directly into the heart of the Galran military might, to openly endorse his claim to the throne, and to put the lions, the paladins, and the Castle in jeopardy with only two days to plan. To make matters worse, Shiro pushed--again--in Lotor's favor, and attempted to pull rank over the others. He even became agitated and snapped when Lance attempted to appeal to reason. It was as if--

"While you all waste time squabbling, sinister forces are conspiring to fill the Galra power void," Lotor cut in, over Shiro's and Lance's argument. He sounded annoyed, as if they were all children and he the only adult. 

In a way, she thought, that probably was how he saw it. They were probably all impossibly immature in his eyes, even herself. She wished she could leap to their defense, but she knew it was true. They were arguing, but only because Shiro would not listen to sense. Lately he had been impossible, almost like he had some additional reason to turn against them. In the end, she put her foot down, leaving them all testy and dissatisfied, but at least, she thought, safe for the time being.

They dispersed, and she headed to the training deck to clear her head. Lance must have had a similar thought, because he was already there. During their brief conversation, Allura worried again about how Shiro was the only one advocating to back Lotor's claim to the throne. It made her wonder: what had Lotor done to buy his loyalty? What had he offered, provided or promised? It was true, it had been their goal to support him, but no one had realized it would need to be done so quickly, or so openly. It was reckless, and Shiro should have been able to see that.

"Having Lotor around doesn't help," Lance said, as if reading her mind. 

It was more accurate than he knew. Having Lotor aboard had been deeply unsettling. It wasn't just the way Lotor's assessments cut through the team's usual harmony. It was the way his eyes burned into hers. Unbidden, she thought of the warmth of his hands when he had guided her to sit as she healed him. They were hands with the blood of thousands upon them, and yet, they had been gentle and soft as the mice's fur. Was he deliberately flirting, and if so, was she the only one among them he'd attempted to charm? Or was she merely imagining things? Yes, it was deeply troubling. She would have to guard herself against his magnetism. "Sometimes it feels like it was easier to fight the Galra rather than try to work with them," she commented.

They emerged from the training deck only to learn that Olkarion was under attack. She was almost grateful for the distraction.

Afterward, Lotor lost no time pressing his case. "I'm telling you, Branko's wanton attack was only the beginning. Without an emperor, more and more high-ranking officials will start lashing out and consolidating their power at the Kral Zera."

She grudgingly granted him permission to display the claimants, but she soon wished she had not done. Shiro pushed once more, making her feel like a nagging nursemaid for having to reject Lotor's request again. "It's far too risky."

Then, Lotor put the final nail in the coffin, as the humans said. "I'll be bringing Voltron," he announced, as if it were the most natural thing in the universe. That, more than anything else, convinced her she was right. Who was Lotor to presume they would simply follow his orders?

"Shiro...we can't allow that to happen," Allura said apologetically. Why was he insisting on putting her in this position? Must she continue to point out the impossible risks he was advocating?

"I'm sorry to hear that," Shiro said shortly, and walked away from them all. At least Lotor made no further protests, either, though clearly he had not expected such resistance. Well, too bad. She could live with Lotor's obvious disappointment. For some reason, however, Shiro's coldness made her feel worse than she had in a long time. It implied that her decision wasn't the only intuition about which she was correct. It was the only explanation that made sense: Shiro must be attracted to Lotor. She fervently hoped he would not get hurt, or worse, get them all killed. 

~ 

Of course, none of that mattered, ultimately. Whether Lotor convinced Shiro or Shiro willfully countermanded Allura's decision, they snuck away without notifying anyone. It effectively forced her hand. They had no choice but to go and support the Black Lion.

Allura had never seen such a display of barbarism. Yet, she had also never seen such a look of determination as when Lotor climbed the steps, flaming torch in hand. Once again, he dueled hand-to-hand for his throne, and once again, he prevailed. She saw with her own eyes that nothing had been handed to him; he had to fight for everything he earned from the Galra. She could tell from the way the Galra were all scattering that his reign would be far from secure. They had more work to do.

Nonetheless, he looked both noble and, if she dared think it, really very dashing, as he lit the flame. She prayed he had been sincere regarding his goals. Like it or not, they were on his side, now. 

There was another complication Allura was forced to acknowledge. She feared she might actually like it--him--rather more than she cared to admit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Fanfic Writers' Appreciation Day! I wish you many awesome reviews in your own works.
> 
> As I post, I am a couple pages into my draft of chapter 8, and I am not to the finish line yet--at least one more chapter, probably two (or more) to go. (More chapters, yay! Delaying other projects, grump! Worth it to get this out of my head and into electrons.) Good stuff ahead, I promise! But do be warned (again) that the next upcoming chapter has a [background] sequence with some violence and disturbing themes; I'll update the tags when it's time to post. 
> 
> Thanks for all the reviews and kudos. They really mean a lot. Remember that you can subscribe to be sure you don't miss updates as they are added! And you can follow me on Tumblr @gwenlygrace.


	5. The Conscience of the King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor returns to rule the Galra in earnest, prepares for the arrival of the Paladins, and believes he's completely in control of the situation. That's until he finds he has to exorcise some demons from his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: violence, some gore, dubious consent, power games, themes of bondage and domination, internalized anxiety, self-loathing, and general fucked-up ness. But it's all in a dream sequence.
> 
> I know this represents a tonal shift, but go with me.

It was difficult to describe how it felt to be back on the Galran Headquarters with control over its operations. Lotor lost no time dismissing those who would not welcome Voltron or its paladins, as well as cleaning out the stink of his father's cruelty. He instructed the protocol experts to rehang the old flag, the one Alfor and Zarkon had used jointly prior to their rift. Mostly, he thought of anything he could do to make Princess Allura feel comfortable.

She was the key. He was sure of it. Every time he thought of her abilities, his heart raced. To be so close, after so long, filled him with an odd mixture of anticipation, dread, and excitement. He still had to address the significant job of bringing the Empire to heel, but what he looked forward to was working alongside Allura to discover the mysteries which had eluded him for centuries.

In the movements following his ascension at the Kral Zera, they had begun speaking more. At first, Allura was furious that Shiro had once again defied her, but that rage quickly faded as she saw that Lotor was fulfilling his promises and assurances. While Lotor went with loyal members of his fleet to secure the home base and centralize his power, the Paladins worked with their Coalition allies to spread the word that those forces he controlled were no longer a threat. They coordinated their maneuvers nearly every quintant. 

He found himself looking forward to those communications rather more than necessary. He wasn't sure why, at first, but then, one of the times they were talking, there was a typical disruption from the others. It was nonsense: Hunk and Pidge spouting technical details while Lance rolled his eyes and Coran imparted a thousands-year-old anecdote. But it drove home how quiet his existence was now. How...lonely. At least with Acxa, Ezor, and Zethrid, he could have held some sort of conversation. It wasn't yet feasible to bring them back on board, but...soon. Perhaps. Acxa had sent an encrypted note of congratulations, but they had not debriefed properly. He sent back only his order to remain with Haggar for the time being as a check on the witch's moves. And because she was with Haggar, he could not risk communicating with her in-depth. Meanwhile, though, it meant there was no one on equal (or near-equal) footing with whom he could talk.

Even that was not unusual. Throughout his life, he had spent far more years alone than in company. The periods when he could trust the people about him were more like occasional bright spots against the dark carpet of an endless lifetime. Many had been lost to failed missions, defeats, or betrayal. Nylea, his first introduction to sex. She'd disappeared sometime after they coupled; he'd never been able to find out where. He always suspected Dayak or one of his other minders had spirited her away to become a powerful commander's concubine. Then his dear Movox, the first male he had loved, more than 9,000 years ago. They had stayed together nearly a decade, before Movox was killed in Zarkon's conquest of Jallavir. He'd buried his grief then in a period of hedonism and a succession of partners of every possible stripe, from full males and females, to morphs, nears, counters, and even geminates, whose names he could not remember, or never even learned. Next came Dixel, a half-Galran, half-Mi'lek warrior, a morphfemale, deemed ineligible for regular Galra command--not because "he" became "she" but because of her mixed heritage. That mattered not at all to Lotor. Dixel joined his service and became both general and lover, much like Acxa, for fifty deca-phoebs, until Zarkon and Haggar ripped her away and made a beast of her in the gladiator pits as punishment for some transgression they told Lotor he'd committed. He'd gone a long time without letting anyone close, after Dixel. He learned to get what he needed from willing partners, without forming any attachment. Experience taught him to keep his thoughts hidden, even from those he believed loyal. 

He hadn't meant to collect Acxa, either, but there had been something about her confidence and taciturn competence that attracted him. He felt responsible for her meteoric rise, and that responsibility prompted him to provide some shelter for her in the cutthroat Galra power structure. She proved again and again that she could handle herself, and deserved more than the bigoted Galran commanders would allow. Then Zethrid, Ezor, and Narti had joined him, each in her own right deserving, but each facing impediments to advancement that were outside their control. He'd valued their support, even their insouciance, to the point where he supposed he thought of them almost as sisters. That made cutting Narti down even harder. Wherever the others were, he hoped they were all right.

But where his former associates were helpful, even enjoyable, companions, he stopped short of calling them friends. There was always a layer of hierarchy standing between him and anyone in his orbit, even full-blooded Galrans. Much less halfblood ones he had personally raised in rank. Only Acxa, who shared his bed from time to time, did he consider a close, trusted companion. With the Paladins--with Allura, in particular--they owed him no loyalty. They owed him no friendship. Any status he held in their eyes had been earned on his own merits. It was a novel feeling.

He couldn't remember any relationship he'd ever had without some sort of power imbalance. His minders when he was younger were given the right to discipline him, to be sure, and brooked no insubordination, but in the end, they were servants. Over the centuries, he learned to conceal his identity from most of his paramours so that they would not feel obligated--but inevitably they either knew who he was or would find out eventually, and things would shift between them. How much they changed became a good indicator for him of how much they could be trusted. (It was an inversely proportionate and extremely frustrating calculation.)

He felt almost the opposite with Allura and the Paladins. He knew he had earned every inch of their respect. And as he listened to the controlled chaos of the bridge behind Allura, he smiled a genuine smile of amusement and affection. He'd grown comfortable with their antics. He _missed_ them. He might even go so far as to say he _liked_ them. 

As for Allura, he'd gone from needing her to believe him, to actually wanting her to...like him as well. When did that happen? he wondered. When he'd gambled on joining forces with them, he'd been certain that he did not care what any of them thought, so long as they performed to his satisfaction. And yes, he'd considered that he might have to seduce her, though he knew that would require a longer game than, as it turned out, he had needed. Ultimately, he'd rejected the idea. But now, after weeks of observing them, and her in particular, he felt a certain admiration. He hadn't been lying when he'd told her that the Paladins loved her. He envied their closeness. He envied the way they functioned like--a family. He particularly envied the look of tenderness in Allura's eyes when she looked at her teammates. He wanted to feel that gaze directed at himself--to be counted a friend.

It was these thoughts, perhaps, that influenced him as he prepared for their arrival.

"I'm looking forward to seeing you again," he told her on their daily check-in, the quintant before they were due to visit.

"That's...odd, considering the way I've treated you," she admitted.

"Not at all," he insisted. "I bear you no ill will over that, please believe me. You had every right to suspect my motives."

"I'm...glad you see it that way," she said. "I wish it had not caused such friction among our team, but that's comet dust through the wormhole, now, I suppose."

He smiled shyly. "I imagine some of your compatriots still have their doubts about visiting the Galran stronghold."

"N-no," she stammered, beginning a denial.

"Coran?" he teased lightly.

"Oh, well…. You must understand that Coran's been my protector since before the war. My father--"

He chuckled. "I understand, Princess. You two are the last ancient Alteans, the only survivors since before the diaspora. It's not just your person he wishes to protect. It's your entire society. I'm sensitive to that. I hope he'll be pleasantly surprised. And he's not the only one who maintains skepticism." He lowered his voice just to the edge of sultry. "But none of them need to worry about you."

"And why is that?" she asked--but where before her tone might have been suspicious, here she was merely curious.

"Because you can clearly take care of yourself," he answered simply. "You're a Paladin of Voltron; you're well-trained in both combat and diplomacy; you're intelligent, capable, and a natural leader. Even when the others disagree with you, they listen to you. They care about you." 

To his surprise, she blushed a bit. Her eyes glittered and she glanced away. "I...suppose that's true. I fear sometimes the humans--Lance especially--still think I'm just a pretty princess to be rescued."

"Perhaps," Lotor allowed, remembering but not pointing out Lance's possessiveness when he'd first arrived at the castle. "But they mostly see beyond that, as do I. That's--" he added earnestly, "that's not to say that you are not also beautiful." He felt his own cheeks grow hot at his clumsy attempt at flattery. 

"Er...I...thank you," she said, equally embarrassed.

"I'm not one to turn empty compliments," he assured her. "What I mean is simply: it's not your looks that make you extraordinary, Princess. You have powers unlike anything the universe has known for millenia. And you have a mind and a will that has already accomplished amazing things. I hope, together, we might achieve even greater advancements, for the benefit of all beings."

"That's quite a tall order," she warned, self-deprecatingly.

"Then don't sell yourself short," he countered. "When you arrive, I'd like to show you the true work that lies ahead."

"I...I'll look forward to seeing you, then," she answered. "Well. Until tomorrow, Lotor."

"Good night, Princess."

"Allura," she said tentatively. "Please. Call me Allura."

Lotor's mouth went dry and he found he could not trust his voice. So he merely nodded formally and cut the connection.

What in the black holes of Kiminox had _that_ been about? he pondered. He had what he wanted; he was already assured of working hand-in-hand with the Paladins, and Allura's assistance. So why turn up the charm? What possible advantage did it offer to him now, when he had already won their trust?

Restless, he wandered the corridors of the headquarters, seeing it with new eyes. All the times he'd visited before, the brief periods when he had been forced to live here, had not prepared him for the sense of ownership he felt now. The empire was _his_ \--or would be once he had consolidated Galran power. He merely had to guide Allura through the next few steps and his goals would be realized. Ultimate, unlimited quintessence. The source of all the energy the universe would ever need. It would revolutionize everything about their lives. There would literally be no reason for war anymore. No need for a slave economy, no call for conquest. All life would know prosperity and peace. It was so tantalizing that he felt an almost sexual thrill at the thought.

That night, his dreams were a weird mix of the sensual and the aspirational. They started with Allura, working by her side as they unlocked the mysteries of the universe. He felt a surge of energy, as if filled by quintessence...and then it changed. They were celebrating their success--with a kiss. One led to another, and soon they were coupling. He visualized her body, relieved of armor: the full breasts with firm, dark nipples, a sheen of sweat on her mohagany skin. Despite the difference in their sizes, they fitted together perfectly. 

Without warning, a third figure entered the picture. At first he thought it was Acxa, but in the way of dreams, the individual's identity was unexpected and impossible: It was Movox. 

"She's an innocent, my Prince," he rumbled in a voice Lotor had not heard for over 9,000 years, had not thought of for at least half that. "Do you wish to...educate her? Like I educated you?"

Though he was balls deep inside Allura, she dissolved into mist without a sound. "She's pure," Lotor said to the image that stood before him. Movox, too, was naked, his skin a network of scars that spoke to his time fighting on the forefront of the Galran expansion. His long arms ended in huge hands with elegant claws. His powerful legs and flat stomach framed a cock as thick as Allura's forearm. It lengthened as Movox stepped forward to claim Lotor's mouth with a crushing kiss. 

"So were you," he said. "Do you remember? I taught you that _Palen-bol_ cannot be truly appreciated until it is applied to pleasure as well as combat. I spread you before me like a banquet. You were young then, and starving for any scrap of attention." He licked the sweat from Lotor's chest. "So eager to learn. My good boy," he growled.

Instantly, Lotor grew hard and erect again. His knees trembled. "Movox, you're dead," he forced himself to say. "You've been dead nine millenia."

"Yet I'm here," Movox observed. "I'm here to remind you how exquisite the pleasures of the flesh can feel. Is that...slip of a girl going to satisfy? Or do you fancy yourself equal to master her, as I mastered you?" He reached between Lotor's legs, behind his scrotum, and felt for the labia and the opening they covered. "Have you kept this ready for me, my Prince?"

"I--yes," he panted. "Yes, it's yours."

"What proof have you that she wants it? Will she even know what to do with it? You'll have to teach her." Movox thrust two fingers into the slit and found Lotor's V-spot with expert authority. "Can her fumbling compare to this?"

"I'm not--interested--in comparison," Lotor bit out between grunts of passion.

"No? This is _your dream_ , sweet boy." Movox pressed him backward, then used his knees to push Lotor's legs wide apart. "Do you remember the day I used the spreader? Cuffed you by the ankles as wide as you could go? Plugged you up and left you, all day, to await my return?

"Suns, yes," Lotor squealed. His mouth had gone dry; his pelvis bucked under Movox's touch.

"Shhhh…." Movox said, one heavy hand on Lotor's shoulder to hold him in place. The other hand withdrew from his canal, but moments later he felt the insistent push of Movox's cock against the soft labial folds. With two rough thrusts, Movox sheathed himself. His now-free hand caught Lotor by the wrist. "You were begging for release before I even touched you then, and look at you now. Still begging. Still just a pup, desperate for approval."

"I'm Emperor," Lotor said, but even he could hear how whinging and petulant and impotent he sounded. He regretted the statement immediately.

"Oh, behold! the Emperor," Movox mocked him. "Emperor of ashes. An Emperor who whimpers and whines and pleads to be fucked by an old soldier, a lowly cog in the Galran machine."

"That's...not true," Lotor insisted. "You were more than that."

"And yet. You sent me to my death."

"No!" Lotor fought against the hands that held him down. He forced Movox to roll, so that he sat atop the other. They were still connected, however, and the barb of Movox's cock rasped over Lotor's sensitive walls. He shuddered and came hot and hard, more quickly than he had since he was less than 200 years old. The streams of his ejaculate ran in rivulets off Movox's chest. Collapsing into Movox's arms, he sobbed openly. "I tried to recall your frigate! I _tried!_ I was told the orders to attack could not be countermanded. They had to drag me away from the battle." He felt arms coil around his back and smooth his forelock back with the rest of his hair. 

"I know," a new voice said. It was tender, but filled him with more shame, sorrow, and dread than Movox's powerful bass ever could. It was Dixel. "I know. Shh. Shhh…." Her soothing voice and fingers should have made him feel better. They didn't; each stroke laid him bare and shook another cry from him. It seemed he was doomed to be haunted by old guilt this night. He tried to wake up, and failed. She continued, holding him like a vise, in an inescapable embrace. "I know you didn't mean any of us to die, Lotor. But that's what happens. That which you love, you kill. Do you really want the same fate to meet the fair Allura?"

She spoke so sweetly that he barely noticed the edge to her words. They slid under his skin like a sharpened blade. When they registered, he looked down, almost expecting to see his own organs spilling from the wound they had opened. But he was whole. Instead, Dixel lay below him in a pool of blood. Countless wounds cut across her dark purple skin. She was broken, parts missing and not replaced by the robotic enhancements she'd been given in the arena. The mark of her Mi'lek parentage, the mottled tentacles that extended from her skull like a wig of snakes, hung limp and heavy. Her lifeless eyes glowed slightly red against the darkness of his dream.

He jumped back, horrified. "I'm sorry," he told her. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I had no say in what happened to you. To any of you. It's different now. I'm in control. No one can gainsay me."

"Allura can," Dixel said, sitting up despite the gore. "You can't force her to love you."

"I don't want her to," Lotor replied. But he knew as he spoke that it was a lie. He did want her to care about him. At least as much as she did her team. No: more. He _desired_ her. 

He turned away from the image of his dead lover. His dream shifted again, brightening, and he knew without a doubt where he now was. He tried to close his eyes but could not dispel the rolling countryside and rampant wildflowers carpeting the ground before him, nor could he tune out the soft ripple of the brook at the base of the hill. He was on the Altean colony.

"You could have told her," Dixel's voice called behind him, but he refused to look back. "You want to, but you know she will turn against you if you do."

"That's not true!" Lotor said, clapping his hands over his ears. "I'm...waiting until the right time. If we succeed, I can free the colony. I can explain what happened to their kin. I can bring so many of them back. I can _fix_ it!"

Dixel only laughed. "What of those who cannot be saved, Lotor? What of the quintessence you kept for yourself? Do you think she will love you for lying to her?"

"Stop it! **STOP!** " Lotor screamed. He willed himself to draw a weapon--Shiro's black bayard in the form of the same blade that Zarkon used--and whirled around to face Dixel. She had shifted form again, this time, into Haggar, and she was laughing at him. He lashed out with the sword. She vanished. Everything went black.

 

~

 

He woke with a start, wrapped in the sheets as if they were a shroud. He was drenched in sweat. Fighting free of the tangled bedclothes, he reached for water and drank thirstily. 

It had been centuries since he'd had a nightmare.

Luckily, he could only remember bits and pieces. He remembered the visitations of old, dead lovers, and that sinking feeling of fear they brought, but what they said and did together was hazy. He assumed his subconscious was trying to warn him against growing overly fond of Allura.

Well. That was fine. He did _not_ desire her, he was just lonely. And anyway, he was certain she would reject any advance he might make. It would just lead to awkwardness which he could ill afford. The best course was to offer open friendship, just as she shared with the Paladins.

After cleaning himself and dressing to meet his guests, he instructed the sentry not to allow any of the others to follow him and Allura--not because he wanted to romance her alone, but merely to allow her to explore Haggar's lair without disruption. And yet...when she tried to leave, he impulsively took her hand.

"Allura, please…." he said. Although he was imploring her to stay, it was still thrilling to use the permission she'd granted. He'd said her name in his thoughts, many times, but never before aloud. Her hand was small and warm in his, just as he remembered it from the few times they had touched before. His breath caught in his throat. "I cannot do this without you."

She looked down at their hands, first. Then she lifted her face to search his eyes. All his protestations of indifference fled from the open expression he saw there. He was hopeless--as lovesick as Lance. One flash of memory from his dream returned to him: He had told someone, "She's pure." He meant it. He had never met anyone so strong, so intelligent, and so unspoiled. He couldn't say innocent: she had been through too much turmoil, undergone too much loss to be called that. But somehow she had managed to come through unscathed, uncorrupted. It took his breath away; he abandoned any ability to think. He just fell into her eyes.

She must have seen his sincerity, because she softened even more, if that were possible, and said simply, "All right."

Her acquiescence untied his tongue. "Thank you," he said, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Now, where shall we begin?" He still held her hand in his. It was oddly comforting. He liked how it felt.

"Well--should we just...pick a direction?" she asked. Her hand twitched as if she wished to free it, but not give offence. Reluctantly, he let go. Side by side, they walked farther into the hoard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I post this chapter, I have finished my draft! So I can tell you definitively that there will be 10 installments. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me! This was my attempt to put some more smut in but Lotor had some inner angst he apparently had to expiate, so there you have it.
> 
> Meanwhile, stay tuned. I plan to edit the last couple of chapters over the next few days and will likely upload a new chapter about every 4-5 days until it's all posted. 
> 
> And after that...who knows? I'm open to suggestions.


	6. A Matter of Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He may be in love, but there are goals to accomplish. Ten thousand years is a long time to wait.

It didn't take long for Allura to find the log. Though Lotor had never seen it, he recognized its contents immediately as his mother's research. 

"Then you're...half Altean!" Allura exclaimed.

"Yes," he confirmed. Had it not been obvious to her? He hadn't revealed his heritage explicitly, but he did not think he had concealed it, either. "It was something the Galra considered a weakness, but I considered it a strength." He flipped through a few more entries, and was quickly lost in the log. Allura announced she would continue to look. Was it his imagination, or was she decidedly more eager after learning that Honerva had been his mother?

Perhaps he ought to have mentioned his Altean heritage earlier in their acquaintance, he thought absently. But he rejected that idea immediately. The Allura he had come to know would likely have assumed he was lying and attempting to trick her, if he'd played that card before they became friends.

Were they friends? He certainly hoped so. He might have wished to go further, were it not for the secrets he hoped to uncover here. He read on. By the time she returned from examining the rest of Haggar's collection, he had neared the end of the document. He disliked what he saw.

"What's the matter?" she asked, joining him again at the display. 

He explained how the narrative degraded toward the last entries. 

"Lotor, have you ever wondered…? What if Honerva became corrupted the same way Zarkon did? Perhaps she didn't die. What if she and Haggar are the same--"

"That _witch_ is not my mother!" Lotor snarled, unable to contain his disgust at Allura's conjecture. Haggar? The architect of so many of his hardships? When she had not stood by idly while Zarkon tormented or discarded him, she was the one directly interfering in his plans. She was incapable of nurturing or indeed, anything associated with giving life. The very idea was offensive. Only Allura's utter ignorance regarding Haggar could have led to such a suggestion. Shutting down her line of inquiry, he turned away from the log and resumed looking at the rows of shelves. "There must be something else in this room. Something we missed."

"I've looked all over. I can't find anything pertaining to Altean alchemy."

Alchemy. Of course. "Perhaps we're not using all the tools at our disposal," he said, and suggested that Allura reach out with her extrasensory perception instead of a physical search.

The results were almost immediate. She pushed aside a tool box and found a carved piece of stone. It was not Galran, that much was certain. Tamping down his excitement, he cross-referenced his own library of data and found, after some searching, the images he'd saved from Planet Entuk. 

Watching her struggle with the stone, he was filled with sympathy. Though she had been through much, she had never really failed. He wanted her to never experience that feeling of loss. He covered her hands in his, longing to be of some use to her, to encourage her to greatness. And once again, Allura surprised him, by doing just as he expected she might. In her moment of despair, she let one teardrop fall. It was a tear he could never have shed, imbued as it was with grief and mourning for the memory of a planet and a father he never knew. But the essence of that tear, the emotion that created it, opened the map to Oriande. His sympathy turned to admiration. From the look on her face, she felt the same wonder that he did. 

He wanted to kiss her. But if she did not return his affections...he would not be able to bear it. He held back.

So it came as a complete shock when she flung her arms around him, their armor clunking to prevent a tighter hug. "It's real! I don't believe it, but it's _real_!" Before he could even think to return the gesture, she backed away, sheepish. "So...what next?"

He grinned. "We go there."

 

~

 

As always, convincing the others was the hardest part. For once, however, Allura was completely onboard. The smile she gave him when she spoke of peace was worth all their earlier clashes. Instead, Coran the cautious, Pidge the practical and Lance the jealous were the ones with the most objections. Even Hunk questioned how Lotor could leave his Empire so soon after taking control. But Lotor had already planned for this possibility. 

What he had not accounted for was that Oriande's defenses included a white hole and a Guardian. He'd assumed Voltron would be built to withstand the radiation and the pressures of the white hole. He had no way to know that the pilots, save Allura, would be rejected by the forces inside the barrier. 

He pulled them back as soon as Coran pointed out the Mark of the Chosen. Loathe as he was to admit it, they were quickly exhausting his notes and his collected knowledge. Unfortunately, they were unable to escape without a cost. But despite the loss of power to the ship and the lions, Lotor felt a secret thrill. He was Chosen, as was Allura. Perhaps he _was_ meant to learn the alchemic secrets he'd searched for for centuries. His theories were all coming to fruition. And the two of them would be traveling into the mythic realm together, and alone. 

It would have been the perfect setup for romance, were it not that time was of the essence. Their rejection by the Guardian drained the Castle of all power. If they were unable to gain the secrets of Oriande in a few vargas, Allura's team would run out of breathable air.

But arriving there...was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. They found a place to land, where he admitted to Allura that he was out of his depth. Together, they made their way forward. He knew she was concerned for her crew, and that they were both nervous of the road ahead, but that did nothing to stop the thrill he felt at going on this adventure as equals.

At one point, as they climbed up to look out on a magnificent vista, he risked opening up to her a little about his past. "I envy you," he told her, "growing up with King Alfor." For contrast, he summarized (briefly, and glossing over the worst details) the time Zarkon had destroyed the Quintessence mine on Dargil. He described how the incident hardened him against Galran tactics, and pushed him to learn more about Altea instead. 

"I'm glad you're here to help me now," Allura said, behind him. He could hear her conciliatory tone, imploring him to look on the bright side. "I never would have gotten here without you."

He paused. She was so trusting in that moment, so ready to give him the benefit of the doubt, after all her previous coldness, that he made up his mind to tell her what he'd done to save Alteans. He could explain about his efforts to replenish quintessence on the moon outpost. He could tell her that he learned it was not worth the cost, and that it had made him resolve to find methods that did not claim life in exchange for energy. How he had used most of the harvested quintessence to keep the Alteans alive, reserving a tiny amount for his own use, and only in cases of absolute necessity. But when he turned around to face her, she looked up at him with such an expression of trust and beneficence that his courage faltered. If he spoke, he knew, he would break the spell of cooperation that had settled around them.

Again, something of his dream from days before echoed in his mind. A premonition, perhaps, that Allura would never understand or forgive his past. She would (rightly, he thought bitterly) condemn him without reprieve. Moreover, if they quarreled here, they would lose precious time to save the castle and the other Paladins. They might even fail altogether. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't bring himself to cause her any pain, however fleeting. And he could not, under any circumstances, afford to lose sight of their goal now, when it was within reach. Maybe, she didn't need to know. It would be far better to stick to his plan, achieve their aims, and revive the waiting Alteans. Then if he dared, he could present her with the descendants of her people, once he was more sure of her feelings for him than he could be at present. When he'd proven he was worthy of her. 

So he said nothing. Instead, he looked around in all directions, as had been their reason for climbing the summit, and saw the pathway. A literal arrow pointing toward a valley between two more peaks. They lost no time gliding down to it.

Time and again as they progressed through the temple, Allura proved equal to the challenges. While he braced for the statue's impact, she quick-thinkingly pulled out the map stone to save them. When they entered a chamber and the walls closed in, she was the one who instinctively used the teludav. Then when they were separated, he found himself cast out to the temple entrance again. She was nowhere in sight. He had had to wait, alone, frantic with fear for her, while she faced whatever lay inside. He reminded himself to have faith in her abilities. They had brought them this far; he had to believe they would carry them through. She was probably unlocking the secrets of the ancients, while he stood by, extraneous and ineffective.

He paced and prowled, knowing it was useless to attempt entry a second time. His defeat stung in his mind and his heart. He ought to have expected to fail. He'd failed at everything else so far. Nothing in his experience had led him to believe he could even get to Oriande. How could he presume he'd be found worthy? Perhaps Zarkon had been correct: he was nothing but a disgrace. And yet…he had the Mark of the Chosen. It wasn't fair--

"Lotor?" her voice sounded behind him.

"Princess?" he breathed. He leapt to his feet to see her standing there, pristine--no, _glowing_ \--and utterly unharmed. "Allura!" he shouted, rushing to catch her up and whirl her about. "You're all right!"

"I'm...fine, I'm fine!" she laughed. "I'm...indescribable." She put gentle pressure on his shoulders, an unspoken request to be put down.

He remembered himself and placed her on her feet. "I was...afraid you'd met a calamity. Did you...did you succeed?" he asked, though it seemed needless. Energy emanated from her like the blaze of a star.

"I...I did. But we have to get back, as quickly as possible. I can charge the castle but we're running out of time. Shiro--and the others...they're running out of time."

They rushed back to their transports and took off. Only as they were speeding away from the surface did she acknowledge the obvious difference in their outcomes. "I'm...sorry, Lotor. You must be very disappointed."

"You unlocked the secrets of the lifegivers," he evaded. "How could I be disappointed in that?"

"I meant--that you weren't able to get past the white lion. You weren't, were you."

He sighed, focusing on the white hole as it grew larger at their approach. "No," he confessed. More forcefully, he continued, "It doesn't matter. I never expected to. What's important now is saving the castle and our, er--friends." He boosted his transport platform to gain speed. 

She followed suit. "Don't worry," she said as she caught up. "I'm sure I'll have the castle online again in no time. He'll be all right." She did not say who "he" was and he could only guess that she meant Coran, or perhaps the ship itself. Soon they entered the gravitational pull of the white hole and it plummeted them back out into space, effectively cutting off further conversation.

By the time they averted the crisis, he was able to praise her with barely a trace of his own despondency. Truth be told, he did envy her, but his regard for her outweighed his resentment. He hadn't even tried to go with the Paladins until Coran noted the Mark of the Chosen. It was only then that he'd gotten his hopes up. So having them dashed again was really, only a minor heartbreak. He'd dealt with worse anguish before. He could easily suppress his own bitterness in light of Allura's obvious talent, her palpable aptitude for the magic they needed. And when he proposed returning immediately to the Galran base, this time, she raised no objection.

"Wow. The castle's already fully charged," Pidge said, consulting her readouts. "I'm gonna run a diagnostic, just to be sure nothing's impacted, but we could go now if we wanted."

"Yes, but someone has to fly us out of the Patrulian Zone first," Coran said.

"Can't we just rest for a few hours?" Hunk asked. "I mean, Lance is right, we just got oxygen back a few minutes ago. I feel like I could sleep for a week."

Allura sighed. "I'll do it."

"No, Allura, you should rest," Coran suggested. He was right; Allura had drained the energy she'd absorbed in Oriande into the ship. As a result, she looked exhausted.

"It has been rather a long day," she admitted.

"I can navigate us out of the graveyard," Coran said. "We'll need to get clear before we can wormhole. You go lie down."

"Lotor, you must be tired as well," she said pointedly. "Shiro, don't you need to rest?"

"Wouldn't object to a nap," Shiro said.

"I--suppose?" Lotor agreed. He wasn't tired, at all, but he sensed that she wanted them all to leave Coran to his task.

"We're all tired," said Lance, stepping up. "Allura, would you like someone to walk you to your room?" 

"Oh, that won't be necessary, Lance, thank you," Allura said, waving him off. "Coran, wake me in one varga?"

"Of course, Princess."

They left the bridge. Lotor found Allura on his left side, and Shiro along his right, while Hunk and Lance walked behind them. Allura kept stealing looks sideways, which Lotor returned, but she did not open conversation with the others within earshot. He could practically feel Lance fuming with jealousy. It reinforced his suspicion--his hope--that she was developing feelings for him, after all. But here was not the place to test that particular theory. Out of deference to Allura, Lotor resisted the desire to take her hand.

 

~

 

If his initial return to the headquarters had been bittersweet, this time, he felt nothing but triumph. Of course, that only lasted about fifteen ticks, thanks to Dayak. The old boot had an uncanny way of making him feel a child of fourteen again. Luckily, she was easy enough to divert.

"Is Hunk going to be all right with Dayak?" Allura asked him as they walked to the briefing.

"You said yourself, he's a Paladin of Voltron," Lotor answered with a catlike grin.

"Maybe he should have taken his helmet," Lance muttered, rubbing his face. "That crop of hers really stings."

Lotor had to admit he'd taken a perverse pleasure in watching Dayak lay into Lance. Of all the Paladins, the Red Lion's pilot still treated him with the least warmth. It was understandable, given that he still imagined there was a rivalry between them. Lotor did his best to ignore the tension and behave toward Lance with respect. Nonetheless he'd felt a little mischievous sense of vengeance when Lance brought another beating upon himself. The boy did never learn when not to speak.

"He'll be fine," Lotor assured them. "If anyone can endear himself to Dayak, it's Hunk." He also chose not to mention that inflicting Hunk on Dayak was a particular irony, considering how she had plagued him when he was young. Hunk would likely drive the stern governess round the twist before he got himself too banged up.

What was less amusing was the briefing report itself. Too many factions had broken off since the Kral Zera, and Sendak seizing up power could spell trouble down the line. The last thing he wanted to do was fight a multi-frontal war when he and Allura had so much to work on together.

"Are we to focus all our energy on that?" she asked when he explained his strategy.

"It is paramount. However, we cannot let the empire fall apart."

After the briefing, Lotor escorted Allura to the hangar deck where his Sincline ships awaited modification. "I can't stay long, I'm afraid," he told her. "But at least I can see you to the ships myself."

"Yes. Your address. Have you any idea what you'll say?"

"Some," he replied, not too worried. He may not have had a speech prepared, but he had been thinking about what he needed to say for weeks now. Anyway, he did not want the guards to catch any hint that he might falter. "First, though, I want to make sure you have everything you need." 

"I don't even know where to start, Lotor." She looked up at him, halting in the corridor. "You keep putting more faith in me than I really think is warranted."

He caught her hand in his, as he had done only a scant number of times before. But this time, she was not startled, and she squeezed it back. "I put my faith in you, Allura, because you deserve it. You've exceeded my hopes on every possible scale. You didn't think you could find the map stone, but you did. You didn't think you could penetrate Oriande, but you did. I know you can do this, too. It may seem insurmountable, but please, you must try."

Allura placed her free hand over his clasped ones. "Lotor, tell me the truth: were you terribly upset that you--"

"No," he interrupted, aware of his attendant, Lieutenant Falkozh, behind them at a respectful distance. "I told you, I never even expected to see the temple with my own eyes. What matters to me is that, ultimately, we are able to deliver unlimited quintessence to the universe, without sacrificing innocent life."

Unbidden, an image came to his mind of the quantum abyss, the Altean colony, and the abandoned lab on the colony's moon. He should tell her about it, he knew. But it still was not the right time. Especially not when Allura regarded him with so much gratitude and...trust. 

"I...I can't believe we really have a chance to do that," she said. She took his top hand in hers and he let go so that they stood facing one another, arms loose, both hands joined. "I'm...so glad that we've been able to get this far. I only hope I don't disappoint."

He smiled down at her. "I doubt you ever shall," he said. He held still a moment, wondering if he dared lean down to kiss her forehead. 

Before he made his decision, she surprised him by reaching up to touch his cheek tenderly. "Thank you," she said shyly. Then, wiith a furtive glance around, she stepped backward.

He found he had to clear his throat. "Not at all. Shall we get started?" They walked the rest of the way to the hangar. If occasionally he "accidentally" brushed her hand, only Lieutenant Falkozh was there to notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving right along! Look for another update at the end of the week.


	7. Triumph of the Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whether one is 100 years old or 10,000, experienced or not, relationships are difficult to negotiate.

They made progress in fits and starts. Some days, it seemed, as soon as they began to work, a situation arose that required Voltron. 

"Your plan has waited this long," Allura told him the first time it happened--the first day they arrived back from Oriande. "It can wait a tick longer."

And while he understood it in principle, it still irked him that they had to pause for these interruptions. Especially since almost immediately, the knowledge Allura had gained on Oriande made its impact upon his ships.

"I had an idea," she told him once they were able to begin in earnest. He had pulled up a data display in order to dismiss the lovesick Lance and get on with things. It was beyond frustrating, for Allura had just given him the clearest sign yet that she would like him to kiss her. Only her Paladin friends' disruption had stopped them. The missed chance made concentration difficult.

"If we interfaced here…" she pointed to a panel just under the cockpit, "and here," selecting the opposite side, "then the same conduits that power the shields will--"

"--Will bind the exterior with quintessence," Lotor exclaimed. "Yes, it ought to work. Allura, you're a genius." He eased his arm around her shoulders to turn her toward him. Impulsively, he closed in for the kiss which moments before had been aborted. 

She bent upward, yielding, but then broke off with an air of discomfort.

"Have I done something wrong?" Lotor asked, stepping back. "I thought, before, you wanted--"

"I--I did, but--I just think, perhaps this alliance of ours ought to remain, er, professional." She bit her lip nervously. "I mean, what would _Shiro_ say?"

"Shiro?" he asked, entirely confused. He frowned. "I apologize. I had no idea you had a...a romantic attachment with him." That certainly explained her hesitation in the past. If she were trying to remain faithful for some reason….

"I--what? No. No! That's not--It's you who--Look. Shiro's a good friend. I don't want him hurt."

"Forgive me, but, if you and he are only friends, then, why should it matter to him where you bestow your affections? That is...if I'm not mistaken, you do want--"

"I do," she said quickly, caressing his cheek with one delicate hand. "More than is perhaps prudent. But I'm not a fool. I know I'm not the only one you've charmed. So we--you--owe it to Shiro to clear the air, and end things with him, before anything happens between us."

Lotor narrowed his eyes. "End what?"

Allura blushed. "But I thought--on the castle, before the prisoner exchange, and the Kral Zera, you and he, er…. You see, Shiro's what the Earthlings call gay. He told me--it doesn't matter when, but he's not interested in females. Sexually. So I had the impression you'd...er. _Appealed_ to his predilections. Perhaps that's unfair of me. I was hoping he'd come and tell me--confess on his own. I tried to respect his and your privacy and instead observe something that could confirm or deny it. And the way he defended you all the time, it seemed that you two had developed a...a bond."

"A bo--Oh!" Lotor clapped his hand over his mouth in sudden understanding. He looked away, as if seeing through the very corridors into the castle where the others had gone. Quickly, he reviewed their near misses. If she thought he had propositioned another of her companions, and was moving on to her, that did explain much. She must have thought him quite the cad.

She continued, babbling: "I mean, there were a few times when I thought perhaps you _were_ trying something, but when I thought of Shiro, I pushed away for his sake. But at the same time, I tried to give you chances to spend time with him and you never seized them, which seemed confirmation that I was imagining things. So I gave you signs and signals of my own…. And then you _still_ didn't respond, even when I thought I was being far too obvious--in fact, you rejected several overtures, so I thought--I thought I was right the first time, and you were trying to signal _me_ instead, that you really weren't interested, and you and Shiro were…." 

She ran on for some time while Lotor stared off in stunned shock. Then, her words penetrated the fog of his confusion, and suddenly everything clicked into place. He snapped his fingers triumphantly. "So _that's_ what he meant by gay!"

"Oh, no! Who, Shiro?"

"No, Lance."

She goggled at him. " _Lance_ is not--"

"No, no, he thought I was--you know, it doesn't matter." He turned back and took both her hands in his. "Allura. I'm not going to pretend I've not had other partners, males, females, even geminates, in the past. When you've lived as long as I have, it's inevitable. But, no, Shiro never conveyed any interest in me, and I never made advances to him of that nature. Since boarding the castle, _you_ are the one who has invaded my thoughts." He kissed the knuckles of one hand, then the other. "If you feel as I do, then, I'm very happy to hear it."

"Well...I...that is--" Allura stammered, and then went up on tiptoe to kiss him. He responded lustily, wrapping his arms around her to pull her upward. His heart pounded. She bit at his lips and he felt his body respond. 

With a shudder, he set her down and stepped back. "Allura, believe me, I would like nothing better than to indulge," he explained to her look of dismay. "But once we complete these ships and unlock the quintessence, we will have all the time in the world."

Her eyes sparkled up at him. "Yes. Yes." She cleared her throat, shaking off the intensity of their encounter. "Then, we had better get to work, hadn't we?"

"Yes," he agreed sadly. "But...will you dine with me, this evening?"

"I'd like that," she said with a smile. 

The rest of the quintant, he found a simple joy in assisting her, providing a sounding board for her ideas, and supplying the tools she might need to implement their latest brainstorms. For once, he had an equal in rank, who surpassed his ability and understanding of quintessence. As they worked, it was not unusual to brush past one another, exchange a quick squeeze of the hand or caress of an arm or shoulder. It was like a promise of what was to come. They were careful to maintain some decorum, since one could never predict when others would enter their hangar. But eventually, Allura fatigued. She faltered where she was infusing the hull of the ship. Lotor heard her collapse. He rushed over to help her to stand.

"You've done much today, Princess," he said. "You need your rest. We'll continue tomorrow."

"There's still a long way to go," she agreed, "but I'm proud of what we've accomplished together."

He took a step in. "None of this would be possible without you." Her eyes shone up into his. Boldly, he closed his mouth over her lips. "Are you too tired for that dinner?" he asked softly.

She leaned in, resting her cheek against his chest. "No," she said sleepily. "I want to…eat…."

"You're tired," he concluded tenderly. "As you said, I've waited this long. I can wait a tick longer."

"I don't want to wait," Allura said with renewed energy. She put her arms around his neck and jumped upward, forcing him to catch her. She wrapped her legs about his waist, clamped her lips on his, and pressed into him tightly. "Let's go back to your rooms," she whispered in his ear. 

He trembled. Her breath tickled the sensitive tip of his ear, one of Alteans' most erogenous zones. With a shudder, he lifted her legs to set her back down. "You'll have to walk, Princess."

"Then let's walk," she insisted. 

He paused long enough to order food brought to his chambers, by which time he was reasonably sure he could ambulate without discomfort. Then he led the way down the access ladder and out of the hangar. Navigating the corridors with Allura next to him, but not touching, was excruciating. At length, they reached the royal apartments. He'd barely gotten aboard before ordering them scoured of Zarkon's possessions, but his people had been at work even when he had not been present. The transformation was appreciable. Instead of austere, dark, and rigid furnishings, they had decorated the anteroom in a more Altean style. The dark red hangings were now lilac, and the hard benches had been replaced with a semi-circle of plush sofas. The meal, including fresh fruit and wine, was waiting for them when they arrived.

Allura sank gratefully onto one of the cushioned seats. Lotor wasted no time sending the servants away. "We'll serve ourselves, thank you," he told them, and proceeded to fill a plate and pour wine for Allura. "Here. This will revive you," he said, placing it before her.

Allura sighed. "Maybe I am too tired," she said, leaning over to lie on her side. She smiled mischievously. "Feed me?"

With a grin, Lotor pulled the low table out of the way. He crossed his legs to sit in front of her, her plate in his lap. He selected a ripe berry and plucked it off the vine. "Try this," he offered, holding the berry lightly against her lips. She opened her mouth; he placed it gently on her tongue. She began to chew. He leaned in to kiss her.

"Do I get a kiss with each bite?" she teased.

"Yes, if you are a good girl and eat your dinner, you may have a kiss. But you might want to sit up if you're going to wash that down," he suggested.

Groaning, she shook her head. "Another berry, please," she requested, opening her mouth. He fed her another, following it with another kiss. His loins tightened. He wasn't sure how long he could keep up this flirtation without losing control. It was exquisite torture.

After another berry, and another kiss, he moved on to a plunobab, peeling it carefully and breaking it into sections for her to eat the tangy meat. "You're not eating," she commented.

"I'm feeding you," he replied, "as my Princess commands."

"Then I command you to eat. You worked hard today, too."

"Not as hard as you did. You're the one who needs to replenish your strength. Besides, I'm not hungry for--food." He flicked the edge of his tongue over his teeth as he said it, feeling another delectable tug at his crotch. 

She shivered. "Then come here," she requested, patting the couch by her head. After setting the plate aside, he crawled onto the sofa and she inched forward to lay her head on his thigh. That was nearly too much. He reached under her arm to pull her up. She shifted toward him, but to his surprise, flipped around to straddle his lap. It placed her head just about level with his. She pushed forward against him and devoured his mouth. He threaded his fingers through her bunned hair as they snogged heartily. While they kissed, he unpinned her hair and let it cascade down her back, smoothing it down over her armor.

"Should we...get more comfortable?" he asked in between kisses. 

"Mm," Allura said.

"Was that a yes or a no?" he tried to verify.

"Mm," she said again, dropped her forehead onto his shoulder. "Comfy now," she muttered.

"I doubt that," he chuckled. He tapped her legs. With a grunt of protest, Allura stood only to flop back onto the sofa. Lotor reached under his arm to unseal his breastplate. By the time he had it off, Allura was snoring lightly. It was adorable.

Sighing, he reached for a section of plunobab. A few doboshes later, he woke her to take her back to her room in the Castle. This, too, could wait.

 

~

 

The next day, once they were alone, he tried to give her a good morning kiss.

"Let's...not," Allura said, pulling back.

"I'm not suggesting we distract ourselves too badly, but--"

"That's not it," she said awkwardly. "I got to thinking."

"About?"

"All sorts of things," she murmured. "I do want to be with you, but, just, not until we've finished our work. It's too distracting. All right?"

Lotor shrugged and stepped back. He was not certain why she'd had such a sudden change of heart, but he tried not to push. 

For the next few quintants, they were constantly together. Unless one or the other was called away, they worked on his ships. Worst were the days when Voltron was called to some Coalition rescue. Of course, there were times when Lotor had to divert his attention to the Empire, as well. But whereas he could give a few orders and return his attention to the ships, Allura had to physically go with the lions whenever they were needed.

He still had trouble understanding why she'd called a halt to their growing attachment. He wondered if she was afraid, or perhaps ashamed, to reveal her feelings to the rest of her team. Or perhaps she was simply nervous due to her lack of experience. He maintained as gentle a demeanor as he could manage. But as impatient as he was to be with her, he was growing more excited for the modifications to work. He knew how many lives were depending on their success. Not just the Galran empire, but the entire universe, and all the Alteans awaiting rescue at his abandoned base. In time, her modifications to the material appeared to be working. "I think that may be as far as I can go," she announced one evening.

"Dinner, then, and a fresh start tomorrow?" he suggested.

She frowned. "I'd like to. But...I really have been neglecting the team lately. And, to be honest, I don't know if I can do any more than I've done. The readings aren't changing."

"It's early yet," Lotor assured her. "My previous experiments with rift technology have taken deca-phoebs. You can't expect it all to fall into place immediately."

"But we've done so well so far," she protested. With a sigh, she said, "Let me try one more technique. It will take some time to, well, to _settle_ , if you will. But I think I can make another attempt."

"All right." Just then his communication pad activated. 

"My Lord," said Lieutenant Falkozh, "Forgive the interruption."

"What is it?" he asked.

"A delegation from the Freed Colonies of Narabon, sire. They are en route and wish to discuss increased protection from the Fire of Purification. As my lord knows, they will only speak to--"

"The highest-ranking official, yes. I'll be there shortly," he said. He took Allura's hand in his. "I have to go. Will you be able to proceed alone or should I have a--"

"I'll be all right." She smiled. "I doubt your mechanics could be of much help, anyway. I'll leave word for you when I'm finished. I expect it could be more than a quintant before we know if it worked."

"I hope I'll see you before a whole quintant goes by," he smirked.

She blushed. "I hope so, too." She tipped up on her toes to kiss him lightly--a rare violation of her insistance on professionalism. "Go be an Emperor. I'll be fine."

His own errand took the better part of a quintant, as well. As luck would have it, by the time he came back to check on the ship, the readings had changed. He ran a double-check. The data confirmed his initial calculations. He opened a channel to Allura, heedless of the time.

"Allura, I have grand news. The ship is ready to begin testing," he said.

"Fabulous. Let's try it!" she replied. Her image wavered on the screen as she obviously rose from her seat and cut the connection.

Mere doboshes later, she burst into the hangar, breathing heavily. "It's working?" she asked.

"Come see for yourself," he told her with a wide grin. "You've done it."

She rushed up the ladder to duck under his shoulder and read the pad. Then, eyes shining, she crossed to the ship and touched its shell. The ship vibrated slightly, raising up on its leads as if it wanted to fly away that very tick. " _We've_ done it," she insisted. "I can't believe it!" She turned back to face him. "I'm sorry I've been more distant these past quintants. I--I had some thinking to do."

He schooled himself for whatever was weighing on her mind. It had been a literal age since he'd entertained a liaison with someone so inexperienced. He had to remember that every detail seemed significant to someone with no basis for comparison.

"I've been...foolish, I suppose," she said, coming to rest her hands on his breastplate. "I was--trying to spare someone's feelings. At the expense of my own, I think."

"Lance," he surmised.

"Yes. How did you…?"

He shrugged. "He's the only logical candidate. He's very possessive of you," he pointed out. "It would be charming, if it weren't so patronizing."

"It's not patronizing, it's--" she clapped her mouth shut. "All right. It's a little patronizing. But it is also rather sweet."

He raised one eyebrow. "If you say so. But then he is sweet--to you. He's obviously jealous of me, however."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"He's your comrade," Lotor answered with a shrug. It was her hesitation about Shiro over again, or nearly. "And you're a friend to him. I assumed you knew how he felt and have already rejected his advances."

"Well, yes, in point of fact. In a manner of speaking," Allura commented. "And I didn't want to--to throw the two of us in his face, you see. We do work together. It's a matter of group cohesion."

"Yes, I understand." He pushed back one of her unruly curls. "But with the quintessence field, we won't have a need for Voltron. The humans can go home and back to their lives. They're--very young, aren't they?"

"Less than a quarter-century, all of them except Shiro," she confirmed. "Children to us."

"Yes." He put his hands on her shoulders. "And as they're young, it's natural to feel you need to protect them. But it's not your job, particularly when it comes to matters of the heart. You are under no obligation. I'm correct in thinking you aren't going to capitulate?"

"No, you're right," she said. "As I said, it was foolish. He's going to get hurt, and it's not fair to either of us to hold back just for his sake."

"For what it's worth, I do sympathize. And if our positions were reversed--if you told me you had feelings for him that were stronger than--well, I would not pretend to comprehend it, but I would respect it. If Lance is worthy of being a Paladin, he'll accept your decisions, Allura."

"I know." She moved in and hugged Lotor, then stepped back to tilt her head upward. She flipped his forelock backward for an unobstructed look at his face. "Lotor, I want to stay with you tonight."

He inclined his head downward. His hair fell right back into his face. "As my Princess commands," he whispered, before opening her lips with his kiss.

Her tongue was as sweet as the berries he had fed her nights ago. As it flicked over his teeth, touching his fangs lightly, Lotor breathed in her scent and pulled her close. She yielded to him, tangling her hands in his hair. "Your room," she whispered with urgency.

"Provided you don't fall asleep this time," he teased.

"I promise," she laughed. Then she backed away. With a devious grin, she rushed down the ladder and out of the hangar. He ran after her, caught her about the waist, and carried her, laughing, halfway down the corridor. Only when they turned a corner and came into view of a guard patrol did he set her down. They composed themselves and continued on.

As soon as their dignified, but hurried, march ended on the inside of his shut door, she pounced again. "How does this come off?" she asked between kisses, clawing at his armor. He guided her hand to the release. Breastplate, vambraces, and pauldrons came away in quick succession. Meanwhile, he found the long sealing strip that held her armor together, and pulled it apart. She popped her boots open and stepped out of the suit, revealing a tight-fitting shirt and leg coverings that ended just at her knees. Lotor unsealed his leg armor. Then he peeled her out of her top.

Her breasts hardly needed any of the support the material had provided. They stayed round and pert, with uplifted, thick nipples even darker than her brown skin. She made no move to cover up, but instead slipped off her knickers and reached forward to remove his tunic. Then she untied the drawstring on his leggings. They dropped to his ankles; he fell to his knees to remove his boots and the crumpled fabric. He pulled her forward to guide her to his mouth. He kissed her abdomen, then licked down between her legs. 

Taking direction from her squeals and moans of delight, Lotor took his time with what he found. Altean females, he knew, had a vaginal canal with a clitoris quite similar to his own V-spot. He found the nub with his tongue and flicked it triple-time until she screamed and leaned on him for support. He eased her onto the sofa; she canted her hips forward so he could access everything. He set his mouth over both her canal and the small protrusion behind it--this was a secondary "tongue" that could extend when desired, called a Henthim. The Henthim served as either an aid to copulation or a defense against an unwanted suitor. It could grapple with surprising strength, and the female could secrete either a substance that would paralyze the unwelcome male, or a slippery lubricant that encouraged her lover. Allura's Henthim was slick already. It slipped in and out of his mouth as he worked. Lotor sucked in and blew out against her whole pelvis, enjoying the convulsions she made above him. Her hands found the back of his head and pulled him in until he feared he would hyperventilate. He came up for air.

"Sweet Allura," he said, rising to kiss her between her breasts. She smoothed back his hair, then traced her hands alongside his face. When she reached the tips of his ears, she _pulled_.

Lotor's own scream of ecstasy ripped from him. He writhed as she massaged the delicate points, causing torrents of sensation to hurtle through his body. She leaned forward to his left ear and nipped the point; he moaned and growled at the touch. Then she repeated her action on the right, and Lotor felt his erection rub against the base of the sofa.

"Come here," she ordered, backing onto the sofa and spreading herself wide. Lotor climbed on eagerly. His penis found her tight vagina, and her Henthim found his secondary canal. They penetrated each other at the same moment and although it was too soon, he could not control his reactionary thrust. He was buried inside her when he'd meant to take things slowly. 

"Stay, stay, stay," he begged. "Don't move. There's a--a barb. It might hurt you," he told her.

"All right," she said, but she did not obey entirely. Her prehensile Henthim began to extend and retract, lipping the rim of his canal and exploring around its edge. "Mm," she breathed. Her hand slipped between their legs to guide herself and cup the base of his cock. "I can...help," she offered, transferring the wetness of her Henthim to her fingers and then into the space between them. The tongue-like organ flicked out and in like that of a serpent, slapping his balls lightly every time it egressed, pressing him open as it extended inside him. 

He bucked once, but stilled when he felt her gasp. "I'm sorry," he said immediately.

"No, it feels--it's all right," she assured him. "Does it…retract?"

"Yes, it will, let me…." He moved his hips in the circular motion that minimized the scrape of the barb. She shuddered with every rotation.

"Hang on," she offered, "I think I can--" and he felt the Henthim move up between them. She lifted her hips. Suddenly he felt a warm wetness around his shaft, that was not her vagina.

"I thought--" he stammered. This was the move of an experienced Altean, not a maiden. He looked down and smiled at her knowing, proud, _smug_ expression. 

"You thought what?" she asked.

"Nothing," he demurred. He kissed her neck and returned the favor of nibbling her ear points. She made a high-pitched noise that confirmed her enjoyment of his choice. As she trembled beneath him, the resulting lubrication and frantic pressure around his cock brought him to climax more quickly than usual, but it meant he could thrust freely with the barb now retracted.

She withdrew her Henthim and placed it back inside him, timing her extensions to his thrusts. Her mouth, meanwhile, sought his pectorals and her hands braced on the dent of his hips. He couldn't be sure, but he thought, perhaps, she was using magic to send mystical energy into him, so electric was their coupling. She wrapped her legs around him and bucked in time with his lunges. Her hair came loose and tumbled out of its bun; he threw his head back and cried out; they crashed together in an embrace as the waves of release swept over them both. 

After a few doboshes, Lotor separated from her, only to sweep her into his arms and carry her into the inner chamber and his bed. They mated again, ate, and then coupled twice more before, in the late hours of night, she murmured, "We should sleep."

He nodded. "Big day tomorrow." He spooned around her, one arm for her pillow, the other curled lightly around her slender waist. She cuddled against him, her hair tickling his chin. With a final goodnight kiss, they let their exhaustion overcome them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo-hoo! Sexy times finally!
> 
> (Because, yeah, the kiss on screen was coded for kids as if it's their first, but c'mon, you can't tell me they did not SNOG LIKE MAD just before she finds out from the mice that Lance is into her. And besides, it's just TOO tragic if they never even got to bang. Seriously, seriously cruel, showrunners.)
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has commented. Please help spread the word among the fen, for anyone else looking for this kind of examination. 
> 
> Next up (early next week): Rift Sex, baby!


	8. The Wages of Sin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura and Lotor explore the rift.
> 
> And, uh... So, about that colony....

The next morning, Allura woke tangled in Lotor's arms, legs entwined, their fingers curled around each other. He was still sleeping. She welcomed the opportunity to view him this way: vulnerable, peaceful, and somehow, despite his age, impossibly young. 

She berated herself for waiting so long to consummate their attraction. After the events of the last few quintants, she came to the realization that her feelings were only going to grow stronger. Then, playing that fascinating game of Coran's alongside the team, she had a breakthrough. Lance was a good friend, but he wanted more--according to the mice, and his own actions proved it. He would gladly have kept her occupied, distracted, while the available moments with Lotor slipped by, until all they had were the miscommunications that had come between them. Until Lotor decided to stop waiting. Lance, sweet as he was, was just that selfish.

Meanwhile, she would give up a chance at--what? Love? That was premature, surely. Could she call it that, already? But it was...something. More than attraction, much more than friendship. Equal partnership, perhaps. She'd called Lance only a child, and Lotor, kindly, had not pointed out that she was also a child, by his standards. She'd barely seen a century before the war swallowed her planet and scattered her people. She was well-schooled, perhaps, but inexperienced compared to Lotor. And yet, they were more alike than anyone she had met since waking in the Castle. In rank, in nobility, even in terms of his regard for ancient Altea. _Her_ Altea. She would likely never find anyone else who understood its greatness, as he did. 

And of course, he had other, more...obvious attributes. Her Henthim ached pleasantly from the exertions last night. Four times--each one better than the last. She gazed down at his powerful form, savoring the way his muscles were outlined by the sheets. It a similar view to the time she'd been on top, but now he was in repose, instead of the throes of passion. His face was smooth, his hair a little darker where sweat had matted it together from their intercourse. His large hands, long fingers, arms, equally strapping thighs...and the way their bodies had fitted together--his thick, heavy cock, that barb!--it made her quiver just thinking about it. 

But for now, there were higher priorities. She kissed the sensitive tip of his ear gently, causing him to stir. He wrapped his leg around hers more tightly. Not quite awake, he stroked down her back with his fingers, claws only barely extended in morning arousal.

"Are you hungry? We should eat before we test the ship," she whispered.

"Mm-hm," he agreed, but only hugged her tighter. He disengaged his other hand to rake one fingertip over her dusky breast. 

She giggled. "Are we going to get up?" she teased.

"Do you want to? I ordered the ships put on board the castle. We've another varga or two before we'll be ready to go." He threaded his fingers through her hair. "Unless…?"

She smiled and nestled into his chest. "I never want to leave this bed," she confirmed. "Well, except for…er, where's the...?"

He pointed vaguely. "Through there," he said.

When she returned, she slid back into the sheets beside him. She turned onto her side, propping her head on her hand. "You know, humans have extremely stunted lifespans."

"Do they?" he commented, as if confused by the abrupt topic change.

"And really, they're barely evolved from the lesser animals on their planet. So, I understand from the other Paladins that most of their kind are rather obsessed with copulation."

He chuckled. "Allura, most beings in the universe are obsessed with it."

"Yes, but my point is that they have--a lot of ways to refer to it." She trailed one hand along his midline, feeling the taut muscles as he arched into her touch. "I was thinking about the one they call 'making love.'"

"Making love?" he repeated. His eyes narrowed almost to pinpoints, as if the term frightened him. But then he rolled toward her and covered her mouth with his. "Making love," he said again, and now the words were filled with lust. "I like the sound of that." One clawed hand made its way to the short white thatch of fur between her legs. He tugged a little sharply, causing a wave of sensation to shoot right through her to the base of her skull. 

He slid down lower, folding himself sideways. He clamped his tongue over her clit and flicked the nub this way and that. She pulled him up, though, to lie beside her. It was too easy to become distracted by the pleasure he offered. She used her available knee to probe gently at the base of his cock and nudged him to turn onto his back. He obeyed. She wrapped her hand along his shaft, examining in the dim light the long, thick purple column of flesh. As she fondled him, the foreskin pulled back to reveal the sharp, bony protrusion that had prickled inside her multiple times in the last few vargas. It looked much smaller than it had felt. 

"Lotor...last night--I know you've had many partners before but, was I your first Altean?" 

He closed his eyes and exhaled contentedly under her touch. "Don't worry about that," he murmured, brushing the back of his hand over her hanging breast, cupping it and rubbing the nipple with his thumb. 

"Not worried, just wondering. You seemed surprised, is all," she teased. "Have you never experienced a Henthim?"

He shook his head to say no. "If I was surprised, Princess, it's that you used it so effectively."

She was glad his eyes were closed and he could not see her blush. "Every Altean female learns how to pleasure herself; it seemed natural to use it to please you, as well." She congratulated herself for sounding much more non-chalant than she felt. Her breath caught as he scraped his claws over the hardened nipple and brought it to his lips to suck. 

"Last night was...perfection." He opened his eyes, irises large and so dark they were almost purple, and his pupils dilated from desire. He stroked her side. "You are perfection."

"Hardly," she said, blushing again, but he sat up and caught her face in his huge hands.

"You are," he repeated earnestly, "the most enchanting, most brilliant creature I have ever met. You make me want to be a better person."

"But you are! You're better than I ever hoped--than I ever knew could be possible," she told him, and meant it. Before learning of Keith's heritage, she never thought a Galra could be trusted in any way. Then she'd met the Blades of Marmora and realized that some Galra did reject the doctrine of conquest that Zarkon had fostered. But only with Lotor did she realize that the union of Galran and Altean could produce something truly remarkable. "You've overcome so much, and together we will bring peace to the universe. I know it. Your ship--the quintessence. It's all waiting."

He kissed her lips, then, lightly, the tip of each ear, then he caught her hands in his and kissed each palm. "Then let us complete our mission--my life's work--so that we can come back here together and never have to leave."

 

~

 

It felt so natural to co-pilot Lotor's ship. They ran through the pre-checks with mounting anticipation. All the readings were steady and nominal. As they launched from the castle and began their approach above Daibazaal, her heart pounded and her stomach fluttered with the wings of a hundred Bylerian lightmoths. This was it.

"Allura?" Lance said over the comms.

"Yes, Lance?" she queried back. Her stomach tightened. If the boy made an embarrassing declaration...if she had to let him down _now_ , of all times--

"Get back safe," was all he said.

"I will," she answered, grateful beyond words that she could answer without equivocation.

Coran ticked off the countdown. "Are you ready?" Lotor murmured softly, just before they reached his interreality gate. "Here we go."

The blackness of space gave way to a warm, yellowish-pink glow. It was endless, but as far from a void as she could imagine. It was the opposite of nothingness. It was everythingness. The ship floated in a sea of energy. Her very essence felt full and charged, like the tingling sensation of healing, but instead of channeling it into someone or something else, she was on the receiving end. It was...intoxicating.

"In the hands of the wrong person, this power could easily corrupt," she said, over Lotor's more scientific observations.

His helmet moved above the headrest in front of her. "Together, we'll see it never does, and continue the work your father started so long ago. Now. Let's see if we can collect some samples."

Impishly, she reached out through the quintessence all around them. She directed the pure energy into tendrils, forming them into an extension of her will. She sent them through her suit, the seat, forward, into Lotor's energy signature--

He made a sharp, surprised sound. "What was that? Allura, did you feel something?"

She could not keep a straight face. "Yes," she giggled.

"Did you do that?" he chastised, amused. In answer, she goosed him again. "Hey!" he protested. "This is meant to be observation only, not--" he broke off in a moan as Allura shaped the quintessence field around them and used it to infuse his groin. She visualized her Henthim extending, wrapping around his shaft, and extruding its natural oils. Her reward was the sound of his breath catching. 

"What are you--" he breathed.

"You can do it, too, Lotor," she said, inspired. "Close your eyes. Feel the quintessence and...use it. Send it where you want it to go."

"I'm not an alchemist," he insisted.

"Try," she told him. "You can do it, here. I'm sure of it."

Taking her own advice, she closed her eyes as well and sent a new wave of quintessence forward to imbue him with it. She heard him shudder. Next, she felt a corresponding warmth, pinpricks of electric charge running up her arms and down her spine.

"Can you...feel that?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes, keep going," she said, smiling. He did; she felt his fingers run over her nipples, her ears, inside her vagina. Her head tilted back, helmet resting on the co-pilot's seat, and she whimpered with the intensity of his attentions. She sent more energy back to him.

"More!" Lotor grunted. "Please, more. I want…." She squeezed her eyes shut and focused on finding him. 

"Yes. More!" she agreed. "Fill me, take me…." She felt an overload build up, followed by the bliss of release, and then she perceived the floating sensation of zero gravity. 

She opened her eyes and recognized the astral plane. Lotor's form hovered before her. They sped toward one another, crashing and twisting in a tight turn from the impact. Their suit projections melted away. Without any words, their spirits coupled.

As they melded together, she saw flashes of his memories, too swift to even recognize. She knew he was seeing her thoughts, too. It was similar to the synchronization that the Paladins used to form Voltron, but infinitely more intimate. Though she could not see or hear any of the images that flooded her, she could feel the emotions associated with them. Many had a sexual nature, but there were some that seemed more melancholy. His emotions grew bright and sharp and she could tell that he was back with her in the present. Their bodies, minds, and hearts entwined in the subliminal space. Through it all, the quintessence buoyed them, kept them feeling fully alive and charged, and altogether supernatural. She was practically thrumming with the ecstacy of too many orgasms to count. 

Lotor's panel beeped; the samples were collected. The sound pulled them back into their bodies, but the quintessence connecting them maintained the aftershocks of their coition. 

"That...was...incredible," Lotor panted. "How--"

"Astral plane," Allura said, too mindblown to form sentences. "Let's...go back. Tell the others about the field. And then--"

"Then, your quarters?" he suggested.

"Yes. Stars, yes." She laid back against the seat, willing her heart rate to lower, controlling her breathing. She could hear Lotor taking deep breaths as well. Finally, he recovered enough to turn the ship back toward the coordinates of the gate. 

He landed. They removed their helmets.

"Are you all right?" he asked before they moved.

"I'll be fine," she told him. "As you said, it was a...big day."

He popped the cockpit and climbed onto the platform, while she pulled herself out of her seat and over the side of the hatch. She wondered how he could appear so composed. But as he stretched out his hand to help her over the side, she saw that his claws were out in excitement. So he was merely holding it together while they completed their tasks. She took his hand and jumped out of the cockpit, but misjudged the height of the hull. The tip of her boot caught and she stumbled into his arms. He steadied her while she righted herself, holding her close. 

"We accomplished something amazing today, and it never would have happened had it not been for you." His voice was thick and seductive. 

She knew he was talking about more than making love, but she could only smile at his double meaning. "It is a moment that I will truly never forget," she told him, tilting her head upward. He leaned down unfailingly, and they kissed again. After the intensity of the quintessence field, the warmth of his lips felt comforting and solid. 

The platform floated to the deck, but it was several minutes before they broke apart to head to the bridge. As soon as the doors opened, Allura knew something was wrong. Coran's face was grim, and he stood flanked by the whole team. All of them wore similarly disapproving looks. 

"What's going on?" she asked. As they stepped forward, somone moved behind them. Was that Keith? There was a Galra female as well, in the armor of a Blade of Marmora. Lotor glanced behind him like the practiced fighter he was. She couldn't blame him; it felt like a trap.

Lance brought up his gun. "Allura, step away from Lotor," he said menacingly. 

She spread her arms protectively. "I will do no such thing. Tell me what's happening here."

From her right, a new voice answered. "Lotor is a monster, and has been harvesting Altean quintessence for generations!" 

Allura could not miss the wide look of shock on Lotor's face, but she focused instead on this newcomer who had stepped forward to confront them. "An Altean!" she exclaimed. She looked to Lotor, whose expression changed. He drew his head down and the lids of his eyes hooded them, eyebrows drawing in, as well. It communicated disappointment, disbelief, and even a little fear. He looked like a child who had been caught with his hand in a loobik jar, only much guiltier.

The Altean continued, addressing Lotor directly. "You killed my brother and thousands of others."

"Lotor has been lying to us the whole time," continued Pidge. "He's a murderer, just like his father."

As Lotor bristled over Pidge's comparison to his father, Allura had an intuition. She tried to replay the lightning-fast images she had seen in the astral plane, in the hope they might offer insight. She willed them to slow down, to be able to parse what she had been shown. They were still too hard to understand. She turned to him.

"What are they talking about?" she demanded.

"Allura, listen to me…." Just from the look of desperation and guilt his face, she could tell there was truth in the Altean's claim. He'd been keeping this secret from her. The whole time. He began to speak, but the words were hollow. Somehow, he tried to claim credit for saving this Altean and her people, while simultaneously confessing that she was correct, that Alteans had died under his "care." That he had played god with their existence. And yet, he expected her to ignore his disregard for the harm he'd done? It was unbelievably self-centered and arrogant of him--Galran to the core.

"Allura, do not let this ruin everything we've worked for," he implored, stepping in toward her. "Think of what we experienced in the quintessence field."

She did. As she concentrated again, the images in her brain finally came into focus. She found his memory: she saw what Lotor saw, standing in a vast chamber with rows upon rows of canisters, each one a water-filled coffin. Altean bodies hooked up to a network of machines and wires. Containers of pure quintessence. Rage welled within her as she had never felt before. When Lotor tried to reach for her hand, she grabbed him by the wrist, wrenched upward, and tossed him away from her, as hard as she could. He somersaulted head over heels, bouncing and flipping again before landing halfway across the bridge. The impact knocked him cold. 

There was a moment's pause, but then, several things happened practically all at once. The hull breach alarms went off; the automatic detection system displayed Galran intruders; and Shiro fell to his knees, suffering some sort of fit. 

Lance seemed to gather his wits first of anyone, sending most of the team down to the hangar to stop Lotor's associates from stealing the Sincline ships. Hunk knelt by Shiro, attempting to help him. But then, Shiro attacked Hunk, sending him ricocheting into Coran and knocking them both to the floor. He punched out at Lance as well, and before Allura could begin to process what was happening, he launched his bayard at her head. She dove to the side, toward the unidentified Altean. He came after her again. She felt the impact of his mechanical hand against her temple, seeing stars before crumpling to the deck.

When she lifted her head a few ticks later, he had tossed Lotor over his shoulder and was exiting the bridge. She fought her way to the comm station. "Shiro's gone mad! He's escaping with Lotor! Stop him before he leaves the ship!" she ordered. Her head was spinning, and it wasn't just because of the massive blow Shiro landed on her. But she had no time to recover. She stumbled over to Coran and Hunk, to check on them.

"I'm okay," Hunk told her with a grunt. "Confused, but okay." He sat up. Coran, rubbing his shoulder, came to his side. 

"We're all right, Princess," he said. "But Shiro's gotten away."

She doubled back to Lance. "Are you all right?" she asked him. He grabbed her and she braced to help him get to his feet. To her left, the new Altean was also sitting up and looking around. 

Keith's voice came over the comms. "Lance. Hunk. Can you still pilot your lions?"

"Yeah, I'll manage," said Hunk.

"We've got this," Lance grunted.

"Then let's go," Keith said. "If we're gonna fight Lotor's ships, we'll need Voltron."

"Shiro's gone," they heard Pidge say. "Who's gonna pilot the Black Lion?"

"I will," announced Keith. 

By the time they reached the hangar, still reeling from the strange turn of events, Keith had changed back into Paladin's armor. Allura still did not know who the strange Altean was, or why Lotor had deceived her, and most importantly, why Shiro had betrayed them all, but she climbed into the Blue Lion to meet the threat it all represented. They were about to enter a fight against a ruthless enemy, with ships that they knew from experience could easily match them. She needed her wits about her. It was difficult to stay focused, but it was easier to let her anger direct her than to think about any of the last few doboshes--or in particular, the vargas and quintants immediately preceding those doboshes. Lotor was a liar, and a murderer; he'd taken advantage of her trust and her goodwill; and now, just when his tricks had been exposed, his staunchest followers had been right on hand to save him. It had all been a setup. She was ashamed for falling for any of it. The only good thing she could do was recapture him and bring him to justice.

Keith, meanwhile, was focused on saving Shiro. He sped ahead of them all to try to appeal to him. If she'd been able to catch up, Allura would gladly have blown them out of space, so perhaps it was better that, ironically, Keith had the cooler head of the two of them just then. Unfortunately, she and the others were too pressed by the Sincline ships without him; they called him back frantically. Finally, he returned to their formation and quickly assessed the mismatch. 

"Form Voltron!" he shouted. Allura let go of her own thoughts to take refuge in the battle. It took all their combined concentration to face Lotor's underlings.

"Who's got eyes on Shiro?" Keith asked. But the truth was, no one did. Everyone was more concerned with surviving the massive conjoined beam of the Sincline ships' laser.

And then...the impossible happened. A wormhole opened in front of them. All four ships--Lotor's three, and Shiro's stolen pod--hurtled toward the gate. 

"Haggar," she said. "It has to be Haggar." They sped toward the portal in pursuit, but too slowly.

"Disband!" Keith ordered, proposing that he use the additional thrust to get through.

"You'll be the only one on the other side!" she cautioned.

"Do it!" he shouted. 

They did it. The Black Lion shot forward and into the wormhole. A fraction of a tick later, the portal closed, preventing anyone else from following. The four remaining lions drifted apart as the pilots stared at the empty curtain of black where the wormhole had been. After the tumult and mania of battle, the silence and stillness seemed all the more shattering, and absolute.

They were gone. Just like that, Lotor was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh... Sorry. Don't blame me; blame Voltron.
> 
> IT'S JUST SO TRAGIC, GANG. Argh. If there's one part of this storyline that I'm particularly annoyed about (I mean, c'mon, there's more than one annoying thing, but....) it's the tired old, "Girl Sleeps with Guy; He Immediately Turns Out to be Evil" trope. Seriously. Do better, people. Nonetheless, it's what we're given to work with. The rest is AU (and yay, for AU. I have some ideas...). 
> 
> OTOH: RIFT SEX, BABY!!! I hope you enjoyed my take on it. :)
> 
> As for Lotor...I guess everyone's past catches up eventually, and 10,000 years of past can _really_ derail a future, eh?
> 
> But anyway! Two more chapters to go.... Probably Chapter 9 this weekend and Chapter 10 early next week.
> 
> (I just want to point out that I'm on record saying my draft was finished a week ago, before a certain actor was on Afterbuzz last night! So any trolling in that aftershow did NOT influence what's about to appear in this story.)


	9. The Fight of the Century

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a right way and a wrong way to break up....

For the first time in phoebs, Haggar--or rather, Honerva--had given them a mission. Since she'd freed them from the cell, she'd used the three of them more as errand-runners and glorified messengers than the warriors they were. Acxa knew how it chafed Zethrid especially. Ezor was easily bored, but equally easy to appease. Zethrid had such a rage inside her. Aside from Ezor's embrace, the only thing that seemed to quell it was a good fight.

But now, a good fight was exactly what they were likely to get. "Remember the plan," she said into her helmet communicator. "Honerva wants those ships. That's the priority."

"Yeah, but if we destroy stuff on the way out, that's okay, right?" Zethrid confirmed.

Acxa sighed. "As long as the unit can still remove Lotor."

"Right," said Ezor. "But then we smash everything."

"No," Acxa corrected forcefully. "The priority is to get out with the ships and get the package back to Honerva. Is that understood?"

"Fine," Ezor replied petulantly. 

And it was fine. In fact, the operation went perfectly, until they were away from the Altean craft. For a short while, Acxa thought they might have even gotten away without incident. The pod with Lotor and the Kuron unit joined them and they flew in flank. But then the Black Lion's shot grazed her tail, followed by the lion itself whizzing through the space between their formation.

"It's going for the pod," Ezor said. "Should we--"

"It won't fire," Acxa answered. "They think it's their friend in there. Focus on the other lions." 

It was immensely satisfying to fly the Sincline ships again. The fighters were infinitely more maneuverable and faster than the transport frigates they'd been stuck with lately. Acxa gratefully settled into the rhythm of the dogfight. When the lions fell back to form Voltron, she seized the respite. 

"As soon as Voltron is assembled," she ordered, "I want it herded around into the debris field. Hold them back until the pod is clear, then coordinate cannon fire on my signal."

"I thought the priority was the ships?" Zethrid quipped.

"They can't damage us," Acxa responded. "We just have to pin them down and then we can go back to running escort."

"I'm getting tired of these little errands," Zethrid grumbled as she came into formation. "Tell me we can at least finish these pests."

"Not likely," Ezor grumbled. Acxa suppressed a growl. The fact was that their mission wasn't to destroy them; it was to get away with the ships and with Lotor intact. It annoyed her that it gave the other two fodder to gripe. 

"Triple blast fire, now," she ordered instead. The maneuver worked perfectly. A few more ticks and maybe they would take Voltron out, after all. But then: "Incoming," she warned suddenly. The massive Altean ship was firing. "Prepare for evasive--"

But the trajectory of the blast went right past them, into the asteroid behind Voltron. The rock exploded, giving Voltron a route to escape. "We have to keep them occupied," Acxa cautioned.   
"Flank them, and use your tractor beams. We'll slingshot them into that large astereroid." She checked her readout; the pod was still hurtling toward the coordinates Honerva had given them, but there was nothing there yet.

To her relief, the huge mech needed a couple of ticks to recover from its impact. By which time-- "There's the wormhole!" Ezor exclaimed. "I guess that means we bug out?"

"Affirmative," Acxa said. "Fall back to the portal."

The pod sped ahead of them, smaler and slower, but with a sizeable head start. They headed for the exit the wormhole offered. Consulting her readouts, she saw Voltron steadily losing sky behind them. "Looks like we're clear," she announced. 

"Good, because the wormhole's closing up on us!" Zethrid shouted. 

All three ships kicked in their extra burners. They crossed through the wormhole and back into heavily occupied Galra space. Just as the wormhole was about to close, she detected a small signal zoom through it onto her detector screen. It was too small to be Voltron. It must have been a single lion. Its pilot was a fool: the fleet would make short work of it.

Meanwhile, they made for Honerva's stronghold. As they reached the other edge of the fleet, however, she saw that the Black Lion was still very much in play. 

"Wow. I can't believe he made it," Ezor observed.

"I'll take him out," Zethrid offered.

"No," Acxa said. "You two escort the package back to Honerva. I'll take care of this one." She doubled back into the fight. The Black Lion appeared to be down one thruster, but it still bobbed and weaved through the fleet with astonishing agility. She couldn't line up a shot. Suddenly her ship quavered from a solid impact. Before she could react, she took a direct, point-blank hit just behind the cockpit. She had to pull back. The Lion sped off toward Honerva's flagship. It must have been locked onto the pod's signal. She caught up, but not before the Lion breached a hole in the hangar. She fired, giving the others time to secure the airlock.

The pod left the hangar and the Black Lion sped after it. At last, she had a direct shot; the pilot was so focused on the pod that he paid no attention to her. But once again, luck was not with her. "All ships dock immediately; prepare for hyperjump," the fleet navigator's orders announced. With a grimace, Acxa broke off her attack and complied.

She wondered how Lotor would react to all this. For pheobs now, he hadn't given her any clear indication what she was to do. He'd told her to stay with Haggar until he needed her, and she'd kept Zethrid and Ezor from running off either to return or to form their own faction, biding their time until she had further instruction. She was excited to see him again. But she was pretty certain he wouldn't be happy with his current situation.

When she got back to the ship, Zethrid and Ezor were waiting, along with Lotor. "'Bout time you got back," Zethrid said. "She's waiting."

"Then let's go." They marched Lotor up to the bridge and he did not fight them. She held him to a slightly slower pace, so that Zethrid and Ezor got a bit ahead of them.

"Acxa?" he asked, and the word was all she needed to know what he was asking. She knew she had to be careful where Honerva was concerned. There was one sure way to let him know where she stood. She glanced furtively ahead to make sure the others were not looking, then she pulled him toward him and kissed him. It felt different, or perhaps, it had just been too long and they were out of practice.

Just then, Ezor turned around and Acxa pushed him forward roughly. "Stop dawdling," she said with all the crispness she could muster.

"You all right?" Ezor asked her.

"Fine." She poked Lotor in the back. "Move." 

They brought him to the bridge, where Honerva greeted him. "My son," she said. Acxa's eyes widened, and she heard the others' gasps of shock but Lotor stood stone-still, as he did when he was furious. As Honerva went on about his work with quintessence, Acxa thought quickly. She had timed this extraction at just the moment when Lotor had come back to his rift gate. With sudden insight, she realized, Honerva wasn't interested in him--just the quintessence he'd spent centuries trying to unlock. 

Lotor's fists clenched in rage. "Enough," he growled. "My mother ceased to exist when Honerva drew her last breath. Do not believe for a moment that I would ever accept you as kin. You are an abomination. A twisted perversion of what was once so pure and beautiful." He spoke with bravado, but it was as clear an order as she had ever received. "The end is near, witch. I know you can sense it. If you beg for your life now, maybe I will take pity on you when the time comes."

Honerva scowled down at him from the bridge platform. When she spoke, her voice dripped with venom and pain. "Take him away."

Acxa knew there was only one chance: she had to act now, before the witch had any time to sense her objective. She stepped forward, but to one side of him, and put her hand, not on Lotor's back or neck, but on his elbow. It drew his eyes down to the contact, then up to hers. She narrowed hers to signal him, then used the pressure on his arm to help propel him out of her way. He switched places with her effortlessly. She aimed and fired without hesitation, as soon as the weapon charged. Even so, Honerva was too quick to react. Her shot impacted against the huge viewport, having traveled right through the space where Honerva had been.

"Did you just kill her?" Ezor exclaimed. Acxa ignored her and reached for Lotor's wrists. He held them out for her.

"Are you working with Lotor?" Zethrid asked. In answer, she released the lock and the fetters clanged to the deck. 

"I can explain everything," Lotor said, massaging his wrists from the bonds, "but I assure you, she is not dead. If you're with me, we need to get to the Sincline ships and leave now."

"Um, sure?" Ezor said.

"We're good," confirmed Zethrid, as tractable as ever. 

"Right, then," Lotor answered, accepting them back with no further fuss. Which wasn't surprising, considering he'd planned to bring them back all along, or so he'd promised. "We're headed for the castle of lions' last known location."

Acxa concealed her surprise. "Sir," she said formally, "the wormhole deposited us on the far side of the Thizonian system. We need to make multiple hyperspace jumps and even then, it will take some time."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Lotor asked with an intense frown. He strode off the bridge, leaving them to trail after him.

She caught up with him before the first turning. She was aware that Zethrid and Ezor were right behind, but she didn't care. "Why are we going back?" she inquired, falling into step with him.

"Unfinished business," he muttered. "This disruption could cost everything." He slid his eyes sideways toward her, as if only now realizing they were back in the same space. "Thank you, for your quick thinking back there," he told her.

"It seemed prudent," she said. "You never did tell me when you wanted us back, but--"

"It seems my hand has been forced," Lotor commented. "Yes."

"It's all right," Acxa assured him. "I think Zethrid and Ezor were getting bored, anyway. And--I missed you, too."

She checked behind them as they turned a corner, and tried to kiss him again. He dodged.

"Acxa, don't," he ordered sharply. His hands came up to push her shoulders. She stepped back in alarm. "We--there's no time," he said, "And...just. Don't."

Chastened, she let him set their pace back to the hangar where the ships were waiting. He was practically running by the time they arrived.

"Acxa, you and Zethrid take the first ship," he ordered, indicating the ship with the forward-facing revolving nacelles, once the others joined them. "Ezor, the second. I'll pilot the newest vessel." 

They bustled about, ran prechecks, and took off. After the first jump, while the ships recharged, he said, "Zethrid, Ezor, my deepest apologies for lying to you both, but in order to gain the princess' trust and make the Paladins of Voltron believe we were truly at odds, it had to be done."

That was...interesting, Acxa thought. She wondered why he was behaving as if this was all part of his plan, when he had clearly been irked to be dragged all the way here, and he'd told her to stay put long before this. But that was Lotor, she supposed: roll from one failure right into another "master plan."

"I'm just glad we're on your side," Ezor said, retaining her childlike simplicity.

"As long as I get to blow something up, I'm good," Zethrid chimed in.

"Excellent," said Lotor. Was it Acxa's imagination, or did he seem more bloodthirsty than usual? "Today, we will gain access to unlimited quintessence, and together, we usher in a new era of power," he promised them.

Well, she'd heard that before. It was almost exactly what he'd said the last time they attempted to go through the interreality gate.

They jumped again. As they came out of hyperspace, it occurred to her that Honerva had given Lotor credit for "continuing her work" and that Lotor had planned to use Princess Allura to gain access to Altean alchemy. So, she wondered, were the ships working now? She opened a secure, private channel to him.

"Lotor, are you sure about this? Last time--"

"Last time, we could not get through to the field. But now I've been there. This ship will traverse the gate, now."

"What about Voltron?" she asked. He didn't answer. "Lotor?"

"Leave that to me," he answered, sounding tired.

"Are you all right?" she inquired.

He sighed. "I can fix this," he said forcefully. "I can still fix this." 

"Fix what?" she demanded.

"What? Oh. Acxa," he said. It was as if he had not even realized his link was open. 

"Lotor, what--" a beep indicated that he'd cut the connection. That was odd. 

"We're ready to jump again," Ezor announced on the general channel.

So it went for three more jumps. They arrived. Four lions faced them, and beyond…. "Lotor, the gate!" Acxa cautioned. "It's destroyed." 

But Lotor was already hailing the lions. "We need not fight today," he began. "We are all on the same side. I know what you all must think of me now that you know my past. It doesn't have to change our future together. The truth is, I want to harness the power of the quintessence field to better the universe, just like I said. Nothing has changed."

They heard the Princess respond angrily. "You enslaved countless Alteans. Harnessed their life source for your own personal gain. How many innocent lives did you destroy?" 

What was she talking about? Acxa expected Lotor to correct her, but instead, he responded as one who had made a true error. "Allura, I--" 

"How many?" the Princess demanded.

"It's true," he said after a moment. "Many Alteans perished in my quest to unlock the mysteries of quintessence. But I protected thousands more, and I rescued their culture-- _our_ culture." He stressed their common blood in a way that made Acxa's turn cold.

"Why is he pleading with the paladins?" Zethrid grumbled over the quarrel. She must have opened another channel. "Why are we not opening fire?"

Ezor sighed. "I stopped trying to figure out Lotor's master plan long ago. Too complicated."

But Acxa was too intent on listening to his pleas to the Princess to pay any attention to the other two. "Allura," he said, again using the Princess's name, again trying to sound conciliatory rather than command her as was his right, "you must understand, I've given everything I have to plumb the depths of King Alfor's knowledge to unlock the mysteries of Oriande. Please, Allura, we've come too far together. Surely, you can see the greatness we've already accomplished. There's still more to come. Join me. We're on the same side."

Acxa found she was holding her breath, listening so hard. Something was terribly wrong. This was not how the battle was supposed to go. Sure enough, a tick after she'd thought it, the Altean shouted back at him: "No, we're not!" and unleashed a stream of light at them. They evaded the barrage. Zethrid leapt to charge up their ship's guns. Ezor followed suit.

Lotor heard it, too. "Hold your fire!" he commanded. "Hold your fire!" 

They complied, but Acxa felt sweat form in the small of her back. Lotor was far too reluctant to fight. He only seemed interested in appealing to the Paladins--no. To the Princess. She was the only one he was addressing. Dread filled Acxa's heart. It suddenly occurred to her that, back on Honerva's ship, he had not seemed nearly as glad to see her as she was to see him. She realized now what had felt different and off when she had kissed him. He had...allowed it, but he had not kissed back.

"Allura, stop!" he was shouting. "You and I hold the ancient knowledge of our Altean culture.  
We were meant to be together," he continued, his voice strong, but now somehow more desperate and beseeching than ever. And underneath the desperation, yes, there it was: pain. "My feelings for you are true, and I _know_ you have feelings for me as well."

So that was it. As simple and as devastating as that. Acxa willed the prickling in her eyes to stop. She had to admit, he'd told her he wasn't ruling out any method to win Allura's trust. But while Acxa had been prepared for Lotor to seduce someone to get what he wanted, she had not been expecting...this. He'd lied to her. He _had_ done something foolish: he'd fallen in love.

"You betrayed and used me," Allura was saying, and Acxa wanted to shout, "You and me both, sister!" but she couldn't find her voice. She was too stunned, and too stricken by her own pain to speak.

She missed the next thing Allura said, but it must have been about Zarkon. Only invoking the Emperor could have prompted Lotor's icy reaction. "What about _your_ father?" he shot back, low and dangerous now. She tuned him out. She wasn't interested in his anger. She gave in to her own--at him, for stringing her along without even the courtesy of telling her things had changed, and more importantly, at herself, for becoming too infatuated when she knew better. But she heard him grow colder, in his calculated rage that was much more familiar, and she heard him give the order: "Destroy the lions."

Ezor did not hesitate; Acxa found herself swept along in their ship by Zethrid's quick response. Still, she joined the fight, mainly because it gave her an outlet for the storm surging inside her, and because it focused her away from her own heartbreak. As they darted in and out of the debris field, however, the castle somehow reentered the battle, turning the tide against them. At that moment, Acxa came to her senses. What was she doing, continuing to enable him, when he had effectively thrown her away? No, worse: he had taken her for granted.

Meanwhile, Lotor and the Blue Lion continued their own duel, and Lotor began ranting, as she'd never before heard him. He was...deranged. She wasn't sure how serious his unhinged threats were, but if he was in this much distress over Allura, then Acxa was rapidly running out of patience, or willingness to help him. She sure as fuck was not going to be the one to comfort him afterward.

He laughed maniacally, interrupting her thoughts. "I'm ready to wipe the universe clean of _all_ my enemies.Voltron, Haggar and the rest of the Galra!" Lotor shrieked.

That was the last straw for Acxa. Mustering all the composure she could summon, she said to Zethrid and Ezor: "I think it's time for us to sever our ties with Lotor for good. Disengage from the battle; follow my lead," she ordered. 

She'd hoped he would be too busy going insane to notice their departure. No such luck. Lotor was not content to let them go. Acxa started in alarm as the ship failed to respond, the display went red, and controls began shifting and moving on their own. Next, Zethrid was ejected from the nacelle across from her. "Lotor, don't do this!" she begged, but the next thing she knew, she was hurtling into space, her suit and helmet the only protection from the void. The seat detached behind her. She slapped the controls for her thrusters to get clear of the massive ship's roll. 

She watched, helpless, while Lotor combined their ships into one. As it fused together, the nacelles rotated, new attachments appeared, and a long, whiplike tail projected from the rear. It was perhaps the most impressive, most frightening display she had ever seen. Ezor and Zethrid hovered nearby. Wordlessly, they turned and powered on their thrusters to put distance between them and the melee that was about to come. If the lions were no match for the ships separately, Lotor would tear them to shreds like this.

They made their way to one of the larger, more sheltered shards of Daibazaal. As they took cover, Ezor cried, "Look!" Sure enough, the Black Lion appeared out of nowhere, right on top of the Sincline. Whatever it did, it disabled Lotor's ship long enough to form Voltron. "Who are we rooting for?" Ezor asked wryly. 

"Lotor's still got this," Zethrid said confidently. "Not that that's necessarily a good thing. Why'd he go crazy? All that talk about destroying the Galra. Voltron, sure, but the Galra?"

"Beats me," Ezor replied.

"Love," said Acxa. 

"Huh?" they both grunted.

"He's in love," she clarified.

"I thought love was supposed to make you gooey and soft," Ezor pointed out.

"Not when--" She broke off. Voltron fired its cannon, but Lotor vanished before the shot hit. Two ticks later, he reappeared out of his own wormhole, glowing with an emanescent pink light, and crashed into Voltron, sending it careening into a large asteroid. He repeated the maneuver, popping in and out, each time growing faster, more powerful, disappearing and reappearing through the very fabric of space. Each time, a small aperture remained.

After a massive explosion, he disappeared altogether. "What...just happened?" Zethrid asked. "He's...gone."

"Look at Voltron!" Ezor cried. Sure enough, the giant mech was up to something. It formed a massive sword, spurting flames into the void, and sped forward to a point they could not see. Then, it hurtled through what looked like a tiny white hole...a rip in space, of sorts. The rip swallowed first the tip of the sword, then Voltron's head, its arms, its wings, the legs….until the only thing remaining was the heat trails of its thrusters. The rip closed. Everything was silent. The castle hovered in the distance, waiting.

"Whoa," Zethrid breathed.

"Well, now what do we do?" Ezor wondered.

Acxa wished she had an answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Acxa.
> 
> One installment left! I will likely post early next week. After that...I'm not sure what my next Voltron project is. Suggestions welcome! More backstory Lotor? Something totally AU? Maybe something will inspire me.


	10. Epilogue: The Measure of a Man

**I**

Three deca-phoebs. It had been three deca-phoebs since Lotor's madness had overtaken him, prompted him to open all those rifts in the fabric of reality, and Voltron and the castle of lions had sacrificed themselves--or so everyone thought--to close them up again. Three deca-phoebs since Acxa, Ezor, and Zethrid had sped away from the expanding tears in space, barely making it to one of the meteoroids before they were rocked by the massive explosion. Though half their shelter was blown away, the dense metals at the core shielded them from the blast. They survived only by sheer luck. They'd been taken aboard by a Galra ship, only to be blamed for Lotor's death, and would be bound to the arenas. Well. They'd had a thing or two to say about that, overthrowing the captain and taking charge of the crew. They'd returned to Lotor's old shipyard and added new Sincline ships to their fleet.

Two and a half deca-phoebs since she'd broken with Ezor and Zethrid, decided that she wasn't interested in plundering the remnants of the galaxy. She'd tried, unsuccessfully, to contact the Blades. Either they had gone completely to ground, or they refused to talk to her. 

More than one deca-phoeb since she decided to head to Olkarion, just to see what the Coalition was doing now that Voltron was gone. She'd had to avoid Galran factions all the way. She kept a lookout for any word of Honerva, as well, but she, too, had disappeared. As for the Coalition...they had abandoned the capitol and surrounding cities. Acxa searched the forests. She attempted to contact Ryner and got no response. After resupplying as best she could, she moved on. She was on her own.

Over a phoeb since she had made her way back to the ruins of Daibazaal, on the off chance there was any evidence of either Lotor or Voltron. What had been the asteroid-laden orbit around Daibazaal's shell was now just a nebula, littered with tiny asteroids, the remains of the planet. But no hint of any life.

Despite it all, she had always been certain none of this was over.

And then, two quintants ago, she detected it, between the Daibazaal nebula and an abandoned Blades of Marmora base in the Klii-Nyn system. A signal. It was broad frequency, audio only, but boosted enough to be easily intercepted. "I repeat, this the Paladin of the Green Lion and part of the Voltron Coalition…." She had traced the signal to its source. Through a--rather bizarre--series of events, she rescued the Paladins from Zethrid and Ezor, and immediately got rescued by the half-Galran Paladin in turn. And now, she found herself sitting with the members of Voltron. With Allura. 

It was hardly Allura's fault that she'd stolen Lotor's affections. Acxa still only understood pieces of what had happened between them to cause their epic falling out. But she knew it also wasn't Allura's fault that Lotor had gone mad from grief over it. Still, it was...difficult to sit there and not reveal to her that they had more in common with each other than the Princess knew. Luckily, Acxa had had three deca-phoebs to come to terms with Lotor's deceit and heartlessness. For Allura, it seemed, it had only been a few weeks. She searched for some way to ease the other's disappointment and pain.

"I realize now that Lotor wasn't the man I thought he was. He preached unity, but in the end, he sought only power," she said, hoping it would indicate some measure of her own remorse.

"I understand how you feel. I fell for Lotor's lies as well," the Princess answered.

"I'll do everything I can out here to help the Voltron Coalition," she promised. Later, when Allura went outside to look up at the stars, Acxa followed.

"Do you think he's really dead?" she asked. "I mean...you survived."

"We came back to this reality from the quintessence field," Allura said. "We left him there. I--overloaded him with quintessence." She turned her face toward Acxa. "I'm not sure. But even if he could return...he'll be something else now. Something like Zarkon." She sighed. "I just have to put him behind me. It was a mistake."

Acxa placed a tentative hand on Allura's shoulder. "It's never a mistake to love. But...it is important to know when to let go."

Allura's eyes brimmed. "Oh," she said, understanding blooming. Acxa found her own eyes moistening in sympathy with Allura's fresher hurt. Allura spun into Acxa and buried her head in the hollow of her shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said a moment later, straightening. "It's not fair to you, either."

"It's fine," Acxa said. "Lotor was the one who wasn't fair. To either of us."

* * *

**II**

Three deca-phoebs. Allura could not quite believe it, though Acxa had had no reason to lie. Three deca-phoebs had passed in the blink of the explosion, as they had been swept into the wake of its reality-shifting waves. It seemed impossible. For the second time in her life, phoebs had passed without her.

They waited three quintants on the planet in the Klii-Nyn system, until the lions were recharged. During that time, Acxa found a ship on the moon base. With Pidge and Hunk's help, she fitted it to fly. She left with their thanks and what leads they could provide to help her find the remnants of the Coalition. She'd promised to tell the Coalition about them, if she could make contact.

"I'm sorry, Krolia, that Acxa had no other information about the Blades," Allura said as they moved out. "You could go with her."

"I'm sorry, too," Krolia told her, "but I'll stay with you all for now." She crossed her arms. "You were in love with him, weren't you. Lotor."

"I--" Allura bit her lip. "I thought I was," she said sadly. "But it was all an act, wasn't it. A trick to make me want to help him. He--it turns out, he was using Acxa, as well."

"I...don't think it was all an act," Krolia answered. "In my experience, only someone you really love can hurt you so badly. And you hurt him, very deeply."

"I hurt _him!_ " Allura bristled. " _He_ was a monster!"

"He was a man," Krolia said simply. "A man who lived over 10,000 deca-phoebs. He was bound to make mistakes. Terrible, horrifying mistakes, perhaps even unforgivable ones, but mistakes. Maybe we should have handled it differently."

"What do you mean? You believed Romelle, too."

"I did. I do. I've just been thinking...the accused has a right to mount a defense. Isn't that part of the Altean way? We never gave him that chance. Too much happened, too quickly."

"He didn't deny any of it," Allura pressed. "He admitted he'd killed them."

"Not exactly. He admitted that they'd died," Krolia countered. 

"Sacrificed," Allura insisted. "As if he had the right to choose, like a god."

Krolia winced. "It was highly egotistical, I grant. It struck me, he called them martyrs. Blades die as martyrs, too. But the thing is, martyrs know what they're sacrificing."

"I can't believe you're defending him," said Allura, scandalized.

"I'm not. Not really," Krolia sighed. "I'm only saying...I think it's more complicated than you're giving credit. Maybe it's easier to write the whole thing off, less painful. But it's not the truth of what happened. He did love you, and despite everything else he did, I think, he wanted to transcend his past. And maybe we'll never know the whole story. But when we've gotten Keith and the others back to Earth, and they're safe...I'm going back to the quantum abyss. Romelle can come with me, if she likes. We'll free the rest of the Alteans and...maybe we can find out more about what happened there, with time."

Both Krolia's words and Acxa's haunted Allura through the quintants and movements that followed. As they journeyed through the vast distances of space, she wondered: was there any explanation other than Romelle's that remotely made sense? There couldn't be. He'd as much as confessed, and when they came down to it, he only wanted the ships for the power it gave him, just as Acxa said. But then...the way he'd become unhinged during their argument. How he'd gone utterly mad in the quintessence field...perhaps Krolia had a point, that her rejection had pushed him over the edge. Was she supposed to feel guilty? No. His madness was his own responsibility. Any provocation she might have prompted did not excuse his unbridled descent into violence. _Nothing_ excused that.

One other fear nagged at her, and this one was Acxa's doing. She'd assured the Galra general that Lotor could not have survived in the rift. But...the more she thought about it, the more she realized, he wouldn't have _died_ , either. The quintessence itself would have kept him alive and energized. Even without food or water, he would have lingered, so long as he remained exposed to the quintessence. And if, in fact, she'd been right and Haggar and Honerva were the same person, as Acxa'd confirmed, then that exposure would have turned him, by now, into something as monstrous as she and Zarkon had ever been. 

So he could not truly be said to be dead, as much as Allura would have preferred it that way. The uncomfortable truth was, he was probably very much alive. And since the ship would rip another hole in reality by returning, he had no way to get back to this side of the rift. The real question was not whether he was alive, but how long it had taken him to recover from the overload she'd transferred into his ship--into him. If they had been gone for three deca-phoebs, how long had he been floating, alone and desolate, and trapped….

It seemed, almost, as cruel a punishment as the crimes he had committed in his quest for limitless power. And she had done that to him. She had abandoned him there. He did not deserve her, or even freedom, but...could she truly say he warranted the fate she had devised?

* * *

**III**

Three deca-phoebs. That's how long it had been since her son had rejected her overture of reconciliation. At the time, he'd been hateful, dismissive, resentful, and cocksure. She had expected him to vilify her, but had not anticipated such unrelenting viciousness. She'd hoped that, given time, his temper would cool and she could appeal to him with logic.

That opportunity had not come. It seemed he retained some loyalty from the three half-Galra. She had fled rather than cause him further harm. By the time she recovered enough to seek him, he was halfway across the galaxy again. She could sense the roiling emotions emanating from his aura, all the way from her secret sanctuary on Klimaav. Her son was a teeming jangle of pain, denial, betrayal, desperation, desire, and shining brightest of all, loss and guilt. She could have teleported to his side, so clear were the beacons of his feelings. But she dared not. Her attempt at reunion had gone poorly. She would have to plan the next one carefully.

And then, something unexpected occurred. His signature disappeared. It winked in and out, blazing one moment, gone the next. She followed the patterns of his blips, like the old dots and dashes of primitive Vorsk code. His ship must have found a way to breach the rift. Without her spy, she could not be sure, but it was the only explanation that made sense. His essence was flickering too quickly for conventional travel as through a wormhole or gate. He had unlocked the rift! Part of her was overcome with pride. 

Just as quickly as it swelled, her pride turned to fear. Lotor's trace disappeared...and did not return. The blazing trail which had burned so hotly in her consciousness was--gone. She reached out to search the corner of the cosmos...and before a quarter of a varga passed, she was blown back into herself by the force of an enormous conflagration. It carried the power of a hundred black holes, maybe more. If he had been at the center of that blast…. NO, she told herself. He wasn't there. He wasn't on this plane of existence. There was still hope.

She funneled everything she had, all the knowledge she'd won on Oriande, into saving him.

Two phoebs. That's how long it took her to find her way into the rift, to fish out her boy from his prison of perfect energy. He was almost beyond recognition when she found him, babbling and wide-eyed with madness. Quintessence had ravaged his beautiful face, creating deep rivers in his skin.

"It's going to be all right," she had whispered to him, soothing him over and over. "I'm here now. I'll take care of you." 

Her druids were looking for her, she knew. But she reached into Lotor's mind for a safe haven that the druids would not find. Sifting through his thoughts was difficult, for his insanity from the rift made them unusually erratic and disordered. But it was also simple, for his mind bent to the least suggestion. She found the information she sought: the location of his quintessence source, a secret base near the quantum abyss. Then she set the coordinates to jump, as many times as it would take, to get there.

She vowed then and there that she would hunt down the monsters who had done this. If Voltron itself was truly gone, as the rumors ran, then she would find their home planet and reduce it to rubble.

She settled into the base, caring for Lotor on her own. Once a movement, she took a ship down to the planet for food and supplies, careful to avoid detection by the Altean population. She studied his logs and the detritus of his work. And as she learned his plan, her pride increased.

As for Lotor, she could not bear to encase him in a pod as he had done for all his pilots. He needed to feel the passage of time after being trapped in the rift. She kept him safe, restoring his health naturally, through food, regular sleep, walks, and simple games and stories. He never spoke sense, but occasionally he would look up at her with trust and...gratitude. She had to fight for composure in those moments. Here was the residue of a sweet child she had never known. Had this version of her son ever existed?

She studied his logs. As she learned what his goals had been, her pride increased. On his own, he had come to these conclusions. Alone, he had begun building not only a superior fleet, but an army of his own. A New Altea. She could use that very foundation to achieve her vengeance. With her access to the rift, she could continue his work. 

About a deca-phoeb after she brought him there, she attempted to funnel quintessence into the preserved Alteans. She started small, building up to the right level to revive without overloading. Each time she brought a pilot back, she told them the story of their fallen leader. She explained that there was a new threat to their safety, to their way of life. She told them of aliens who had come from a distant planet to upset the order of the universe. Then she divulged the names of the villains who had come unfathomable distances and caused Lotor's infirmity: the Paladins of Voltron.

Within two deca-phoebs, she had revived enough Alteans to reveal themselves to the colony below. Honerva told them how Lotor had saved them, and how he had been damaged in return for his tireless efforts on their behalf. She had adapted the Komar into a much smaller, but adequately powerful, recharging device. Employed properly, it would deplete the quintessence of an opponent and channel it directly into the Altean craft, replenishing both it and the pilot. The ships could also use the power of that quintessence to travel by wormhole.

There was no shortage of volunteers to test the prototype.

And every day, she checked on Lotor. The New Alteans who cared for him reported that he was tractable. He cooperated in daily activities, such as feeding, walking, even interactive games. But his speech, and even his writing, were nonsense. He spoke in the same strings of quotation, equations, babbling in a pattern that made sense only to him. 

Almost three deca-phoebs into their tenure on the base, the New Alteans came to her with excitement. "He's lucid," they told her. "He asked where he was, wanted more food." 

Honerva's soul did a handspring at the news. She rushed to his side immediately. Her joy was short-lived, however. "Lotor, do you know where you are?" she asked when she arrived in his room. "Do you know me?"

He studied her face, frowning. "Witch. _Palen-bol_ ," he announced. His eyes grew glassy and vague again. His voice lost strength. " _Vrepit sa_. I didn't mean to hurt them. Any of them. My fault. I drained the castle, I lost her. The sum of two sides of a plexian angle is equal to the half the circumference of its arc. In days of old when the world was green…." and so on. Back to his inner world.

Honerva swallowed her grief. "Continue," she told his caregivers. "Tell him how long it has been since he fought Voltron. Tell him every day." She fed herself promises of the vengeance she would wreak upon the race of beings who had ravaged her son.

Three phoebs after Lotor's mysterious emergence and regression, she heard rumors of Voltron's reappearance. She couldn't find the lions when she searched for them. She no longer felt any connection to her spy. Unperturbed, she pressed on with her plan. Instead of searching for the lions, she reached out and found...Sendak. 

Two phoebs after that, Petrulius came to her. "My lady, the modifications you requested are complete." He stood aside to allow a female Altean to step forward. "Temilla has the best qualifications for the mission. She is ready to go. We have three more pilots standing by to follow as soon as their ships are complete."

"Excellent," Honerva said. She reached out to Sendak again. By eavesdropping a few times, she learned all she needed to know. All that remained was to wait for Voltron to arrive. 

One phoeb later, she received the confirmation she wanted. She ordered Temilla and the ship made ready. For the occasion, she also had Lotor dressed and brought to the launch. His handlers kept him quiet, but his physical presence was a powerful motivation for the Alteans he had taught to view him as their savior. Against this backdrop, Honerva gave her instructions.

"I have the coordinates from Sendak's fleet," she told the pilot. "He is currently engaged in a battle with Voltron. You will go there and steal his victory. Destroy the lions, and kill the Paladins. Your target is called Earth."

* * *

**IV**

Three deca-phoebs. They tell him it's been three deca-phoebs since he fought Voltron. Three deca-phoebs, since he'd gone into the rift. Since Allura flooded him, incapacitated him, destroyed him and left him. Knowing he wouldn't die. Knowing he _couldn't_ die there. Three deca-phoebs, but an eternity.

He's still not sure how long he was actually _in_ the rift. (Actually, he's not sure he's not still there, and this is all hallucination.) He didn't need to eat, drink, or expel waste, so it was difficult to judge the passing of time. He remembered the fight with Allura, remembered battling Voltron, and the feeling of overwhelming current from the quintessence overflow. He'd passed out; when he woke, he was alone. He'd attempted to batter his way out, as before, but something was forming a barrier. Something that wasn't there before. It trapped him.

His first reaction had involved a lot of self-indulgent twaddle, screaming himself hoarse, and, if he was honest, crying himself back into the oblivion of sleep when he despaired. He wasn't certain how long that had lasted. Longer than healthy, which was to say, it had lasted at all.

When next he woke, he had tried to approach his situation logically. So, he was trapped. Routine was necessary. He went through the alphabets and number sequences of every language he knew. He reviewed teaching rhymes, epic poems, histories, works of literature, and even manuals in his head. He attempted to tell himself his life story, in order, with as much detail as he could stand to remember. He forced himself to focus.

But it didn't work. With the quintessence flowing through him constantly, his body did not think it _needed_ sleep. He began to imagine things--people--who were not there. He replayed his last argument with Allura, his rapidly descending spiral into fury and instability. "New Altea," he scoffed at himself. "What. The fuck. Is wrong with you? How long before _they_ turned against you, too? Idiot." He blamed the Altean girl for exposing him, Haggar (Honerva, fuck!), for kidnapping him just when he needed most to remain, Acxa for losing faith in him, Allura for rejecting him...and most of all, himself. For failing. Again.

There was no night or day. Counting the ticks would only speed madness. He thought about drifting freely in the rift. Perhaps he tried it, he isn't sure. He vaguely remembers floating, tethered to the cockpit so as not to lose himself in the field. He appreciated the ability to move his limbs, to stretch and swim through the energy. But within a few doboshes, he found himself hard and aching. He wept from the memory of his intercourse with Allura, and the loss of any further chance to experience it again. He imagined her there with him--touching him with the tendrils of quintessence and her magical signature. How could he bear to live without that?

He had wanted to die. He couldn't.

Time ceased to have meaning. All that mattered were his thoughts. Soon, even those became tangled and self-reflexive. He developed a loop of contemplation which replayed over and over--a long, rambling road that paved its way in a large circle, bent back on itself and started again. He imagined every iteration of choices--10,000 years' worth. All of them ended right where he began, marooned forever, alone with his guilt. 

An age later, when he had felt solid hands touch him, when the pink-yellow cloud dissipated and turned to blackness again, he imagined that he was imagining it. "Allura," he muttered to the figure dancing before his eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, it's my fault, all of it. I didn't mean to hurt them. Any of them. My fault. I killed the castle, I lost you, I--"

"Shhh…" the figure had said to him. "It's going to be all right. I'm here now. I'll take care of you."

"Allura. I have to tell you. Listen: …. The ancient warrior Bolvag led his people to war against a neighboring tribe. Two, four, eight, sixteen, thirty-two…." In his mind, he told her everything about the colony's real purpose, about how mistaken that strange Altean had been, and yet how she had every right to hate him. He explained how he had aborted operations, his intention to revive those he could. He explained and she listened, and then she kissed him and told him it was going to be all right.

But it wasn't. He'd done things she would never forgive. It wasn't all right and it never could be. She wasn't there. She was never there. Maybe he wasn't, either.

Eventually, he could tell he wasn't in the rift anymore (or his mind made him think so), not because he was tired, or hungry, but because he needed to piss. Someone had cleaned him up, dressed him in soft clothes, and laid him down on a bunk. He slept and woke in more regular intervals. Someone fed him. Made him walk and let him relieve himself. Cleaned him up again. Told him stories and played old teaching games. Actions repeated, just as his thoughts looped around. Useless to try to figure out how long, how many times. He tried to ask where he was, but his questions came out as multiplication tables or snippets of old stories. 

Some time after that, other figures began to share the duties of caring for him, or he invented them out of desperation. They were the Alteans from his memories, from the stasis chambers where he'd kept them from the brink of death so many decades ago. The activities of the day were the same--eat, walk, defecate, listen to stories--but the routine changed subtly from instance to instance. Almost as if time were really passing.

Once, on waking, he feels...different. He can't explain but he feels as if Allura is nearby, in a way she was not before. The words his caretakers said make more sense than they had. He hears them name the food he'd been given, and asks for more. 

Somehow, that causes a stir among his minders. They tell him then it has been three deca-phoebs since his battle. "She's coming, my lord," they say. "She'll explain everything." 

His heart pounds. Allura? Perhaps his vision of being rescued from the rift was real. As they bustle about, he closes his eyes to feel for the rift-connection to quintessence...and finds nothing. But then, his mind has not felt that for a while. He tries to find Allura's signature instead. He thinks he can see a tiny light, but before he can reach out to it, he's interrupted. A woman arrives and shakes him. Speaks to him. "Do you know me?" she asks. She's no beautiful princess, but a hag. He curses his own mind's betrayal. In his twisted hallucination, this fever-dream, Honerva had been the one who'd rescued him, not Allura. 

Allura still hated him. Still thought he was the worst villain imaginable. It was Honerva who came to see him each day, who rushes in and regards him with searching hunger. "Witch," he mutters. He's her prisoner. She'll probably turn him into one of her drones any dobosh now. He would have been better off in the rift. Assuming he isn't really still there. He weighs the two options.

So he rejects this attempted narrative. The witch had not saved him; he's still in the rift. This is just another unwelcome dream. He seeks refuge back in his cycle of self-recrimination and memory. At least he could be sure it was real. It's too painful to be anything else. " _Palen-bol_ ," he says, savoring the irony. Wisdom through pain. Pain is the answer. He can't trust his hands, eyes, tongue, ears. They are liars. They created the lie in which he now exists. His very senses know that an eternity of torment was all he deserves.

But things still...change, gradually, every time the cycle starts over. He has dreams that feel like dreams. His servants keep adding time to how long it has been since his battle. One day, today (possibly?), when he wakes, they tell him it's been three and a half deca-phoebs. He's dressed in soft clothes and walked to a large hangar where the witch and hundreds of Alteans surround a massive ship. Haggar speaks new words. "Voltron," she says, and "Sendak." He hears his--his _mother_ say: "Destroy the lions, and kill the Paladins. Your target is called Earth."

This is a new fantasy, an odd one. For some reason, his mind has put Allura in danger. Which means he has a chance. A chance, perhaps, to save her. To prove he is worthy. He is walked back to his room, but his thoughts race forward, engaged as they haven't been in phoebs. A plan forms in the space of only a few doboshes. If he can somehow hold on to this narrative, his imagination might conjure an entire scenario. In it, he'll take one of the other ships from the hangar. Perhaps his dream will allow him to make it to Earth, and swoop in to save the Paladins, as he did back when he thwarted Haggar's attack on the rebel fleet. Back when he first came to the castle. Perhaps his delusions are giving him a second chance. They're taking him all the way back to a beginning, of sorts. It's a way to start over and try to make new, better decisions.

It's a new fantasy, and it fills him with uncertainty, but it breaks the monotony of the old loop. At the very least, it could prove diverting, for as long as he can make it last. He decides to see it through to its end. This time, he tells himself, he will not fail. This time, he will not disappoint Allura. This time, when Honerva comes to visit him, he does not retreat. He smiles sweetly, summoning all his capacity to manipulate and deceive. Allura's life depends on his success. He meets the witch's gaze.

"Hello...Mother."

**Author's Note:**

> I've attempted to maintain canon-compliance within the framework of the show, with the understanding that for storytelling purposes, they have to compress a lot of information into a highly economical space. Timelines may be stretched as a result. Any canonical errors are unintentional, but tell me and I'll see if I can correct them without breaking the fic! (NOTE: the epilogue extends into the gap between S7 and S8, and is somewhat speculative. It'll surely be Joss'd, but whatev. I'll consider it AU when that happens.)
> 
> So that's it! It's now complete. What should I do next? More Lotor backstory? Something completely AU? Toss out suggestions and maybe I'll get inspired.
> 
> If you like this fic, check out my other stories, or follow me on Tumblr @gwenlygrace


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